


Not Enough

by LadyBeloe



Category: The Halcyon (ITV series), The Halcyon (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Class Differences, Jealousy, M/M, Oblivious!Toby, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Self-Esteem Issues, Smut, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:02:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 75,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23342905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBeloe/pseuds/LadyBeloe
Summary: Toby meets another young aristocrat with a thing for books. Adil tries to do what's best for Toby. Ultimate happy ending.AU-ish (d'Abberville is still dead, but Sonny and Betsey live and the lobby is somehow miraculously not destroyed or already repaired).
Relationships: Betsey Day/Sonny Sullivan, Emma Garland/Freddie Hamilton (The Halcyon), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Toby Hamilton/Adil Joshi, Toby Hamilton/OMC (one-sided)
Comments: 55
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inner_tempest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inner_tempest/gifts).



> This is for the lovely Inner_tempest who discussed the idea of Toby meeting another young gay aristocrat with me a long time ago and took the time to write and gift me a one-shot about it (Unexpected at Best, check it out if you haven't !). Thank you so much again! <3 This is my take on the same idea. I hope you'll enjoy it !

— Come on, Toby, don’t be like that! 

— Like what, exactly? Care to be more precise? Don’t be such a spoilsport, Toby? Don’t be so presumptuous as to think you deserve to have a nice quiet night on your own?

— I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it! 

— Oh, I think you did mean it exactly like that. “Let’s get Toby stuck with the boring guest all evening, he sure won’t mind, he is used to it!”

— What are you complaining about, you’ll be at the bar! You’re practically glued to it every night anyway!

— What can I say? I’m a pathetic drunk and I happen to be friends with the only guest here who drinks even more than I do. 

— Mr O’Hara can do whatever the hell he pleases…but you are a Hamilton, you should be more careful about your image! 

— Oh, yes, I should probably start bringing some Nazi-loving hussies to the hotel and fool around with them all over the damned place! That would definitely be a much more proper thing for a Hamilton to do! 

Freddie glared at his brother reproachfully. 

— Why do you always do that? Do you really have to rub it in? 

Toby suddenly felt a sharp twist of guilt in his stomach. He knew how hard it was for Freddie to admit the full extent of their father’s misconduct. The wound was deep and far from completely healed yet, and he knew it was unfair of him to weaponize it against his twin. 

— I’m sorry, he said. I’m just tired, and I had planned to retire early this evening, that’s all. 

— Oh, Freddie said, his expression shifting from irritation to worry. Are you alright? Do you even get enough sleep these days? 

— You sound like Mother on one of her good days, Toby replied, rolling his eyes, even though he was genuinely touched by his brother’s concern. But yes, I’m fine. I just don’t feel like staying up late tonight. 

The truth of the matter was that the main reason he was staying late at the bar every night was Adil’s presence, and that Adil was taking a leave of absence this very evening for three days to attend his sister’s wedding. Which was wonderful news in itself, of course, and Toby was really happy for his lover, knowing how much he cared about his family and how rarely he got to see them, but he couldn’t help thinking how much he was going to miss him. Freddie could not have chosen a worse time to ask him to help him entertain a new guest. The man was apparently a cousin of one of Freddie’s brothers in arms who would also be there this evening, and Freddie had already met him once or twice, but Toby had not. The man was an aristocrat, though he did not have a title, being only the third brother, and his family was very well-off. Typically the kind of person they were supposed to socialize with, of course. And typically the kind of person Toby did not want to have to care about when Adil was not around to help him through this ordeal with secret smiles and glances, feather-light brushes of fingertips around a glass, and strategically placed interventions whenever things became too much for Toby to handle. And even if it had been a regular evening with just the familiar, friendly presence of Joe next to him at the counter, Toby would not have fancied staying at the bar either. He had nothing against poor Tom, but being there tonight would only serve to rub in the fact that Adil himself was not there, and would not be for three whole days. Toby knew he was being childish, but if he wanted to wallow in loneliness in his room, well, he should be free to do so! Of course, he was not going to tell his brother about any of this. 

— The thing is, Freddie went on, looking slightly embarrassed, I’ve already told them that you’d be there, and he seemed to really look forward to meeting you, so…  
Toby groaned inwardly. 

— Can’t you tell them I’m unwell? Or head-deep in work? Or anything? 

— But you’re not though, are you? 

— No…I mean yes, I…

Toby sighed. He knew the rules of their social circle, as much as he despised them: it took a much better reason than that to be excused from a planned reception or any kind of hosting event, even a simple evening with two guests, one of which was a good friend of his brother’s. Three was an uneven number and Toby bailing out now that Freddie had announced his presence would make things very awkward. And yet part of him still refused to be coerced into this, as futile as this may seem. As the future lord, Freddie had always taken his duties very seriously, including any kind of social obligations. Of course, their father did not cut him any slack; but Toby knew that Freddie was by nature much more inclined to this kind of things than he himself was – to say the least. For Toby, socializing had always been a trial that often veered into nightmare territory when his father was still alive. And he knew that Freddie, self-assured, articulate Freddie, would never, even with all the good will in the world, ever understand just how exhausting and unsettling a simple conversation with a stranger could be. 

— Toby, seriously, he’s a very decent man, and I’m sure you’ll get along very well! 

— Yes, that’s what Mother said about me and Theresa Buchannan. No, thank you! 

— Aren’t you listening to me? Toby, I know you will get along. I know you, and he reminds me of you. 

— And you find him so boring you don’t think you can handle a conversation with him? Well, that’s very nice to hear!

— Oh, for Heaven’s sake Toby, he’s not boring, he is…well, he is like you! A scholar, not a soldier. It’s not insulting, it’s a fact. You’re my brother, and I love you, and I like spending time with you, but you cannot deny that we don’t have that many common interests. And I don’t know the first thing about half the topics you’re really passionate about. You don’t enjoy talking to me about these things because I don’t understand you, and I don’t enjoy it either because I feel stupid!  
Toby stared at his twin in surprise. 

— You…You really do? He asked. 

— Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I do. 

— I thought…I thought you just did not give a damn about my pursuits and that you believed it was a complete waste of time, Toby said, his voice slightly shaking. 

Freddie sighed. 

— Sometimes, you really seem to forget that I’m not our father, he replied softly. I’ve never thought your studies were a waste of time. Never. Now, to be honest, it’s true most of those things are not my cup of tea, but I wouldn’t mind hearing you talk about them if I understood them better. But I don’t, because I’m not as brilliant as you are, and I don’t have your elephant memory and your thirst for knowledge. Let’s face it: I’m definitely the dumber twin. 

— That’s not true! You have a different form of intelligence, that’s all! I would never be able to do the things you do either, Toby protested ardently. 

— You don’t say, Freddie replied, grinning. 

Toby shoved him playfully. 

The brothers laughed, eyes suddenly full of mirth. 

Toby often pondered over how weird their relationship had gotten since Lord Hamilton’s death. They were trying to make up for lost time, after years of being estranged from each other, struggling to overcome past pains and misunderstandings, past rivalries fuelled by their father’s constant belittling of Toby and the growing pressure he put on Freddie’s shoulders, seemingly doing everything to pull them apart and destroy the complicity they used to have in their early childhood, the special bond that came from sharing a womb. Now they were walking on thin ice, taking major steps forward, but still awkward and unsure, afraid of falling back into freezing depths of hurt. It would take time, but Toby was starting to think they would get there eventually. They knew they loved each other and still had each other’s back, and it was all that mattered. 

— Alright, Toby finally relented. I’ll be there. I’ll help you entertain the scholarly cousin. But you’ll owe me one. 

— Maybe, Freddie replied with a knowing smirk. Or maybe I am right and you are going to be thick as thieves before the end of the night. 

— I doubt that very much, Toby answered drily. 

— We’ll see. Oh, here’s Emma. I am going to…discuss tonight’s arrangements with her, Freddie said, hurriedly fixing his tie and looking intently at the blonde woman walking towards them. 

Toby stifled a laugh. 

— You know you don’t have to make excuses in front of me? He said. I know you just want to be alone with her. You don’t have to pretend. I know you both, remember? 

— That’s right, Freddie said, contrite. Then could you…

— Kindly go away, Toby completed sarcastically. Of course. I’m off right now. 

— Thank you, Freddie gratefully replied. 

Toby winked at Emma, whose eyebrows rose in amusement when she saw him walk in the opposite direction. 

Toby was very glad they had reconciled. They were made for each other, always had been. He only wished he could share his own secret happiness with them. He shook off that thought and went back to his room, wondering when Adil would be finished with the inventory and all the other things he had to sort out before leaving. He couldn’t wait for him to come up to his room. He had a three-days-worth provision of kisses in store for him.


	2. Chapter 2

— “Alright, I think we’re done,” Adil said, looking at his to-do list. 

He had just been through the inventory with Tom, and then given him all the tips and advice he could think of, including reminders of how regular guests liked their drinks, Lady so-and-so being partial to a discreet drop of brandy in her tea, and Lord this-and-that always omitting to ask for lime instead of yellow lemon in his gin tonic, and so on. 

— “I hope I won’t forget anything,” the redhead second barman sighed, squinting anxiously at his own list of recommendations. 

— “You’ll be fine,” Adil reassured him gently. “You’re good at your job, there’s nothing to be worried about.”

— “Yeah, I guess so…but I’m not the best cocktail maker in London.”

— “Best cocktail maker in London is a huge overstatement,” Adil said. “Besides, most clients don’t want to try anything fancy. They usually choose drinks they’re already familiar with. And if they do want you to create something special, try and stick with flavours you know for sure work together. Better to get something a bit boring than utterly undrinkable.”

— “Right,” Tom approved, scribbling something at the bottom of his list. “Thank you!”

— “You’re welcome. And thank you for agreeing to take over for me,” Adil replied. “I know it’s a lot more work with only two barmen here instead of three.” 

Mr Garland had not been pleased when Adil had asked for three days’ leave. He had looked about ready to refuse straight away, but then Miss Garland had worked her magic and convinced her father to let him go, stating that they had no major event coming up, and that Tom was perfectly capable of taking over for a short while. Adil would be eternally grateful to her for that. 

— “Well, more work means more money, so I’m not complaining,” Tom said, shrugging. “Besides, I wasn’t going to say no. If it was my sister getting married, I wouldn’t want to miss it for the world. It’s going to be something for you, seeing her all in white like that!”

Adil smiled. He knew Tom had a younger sister, Cecily, who he was very fond of.

— “I’m pretty sure she’ll be wearing red,” he replied. “But yes, it’s going to be something.”

Tom looked at him in surprise. 

— “Red?” 

— “Yes,” Adil answered. “Indian brides wear red for their wedding. It’s the colour of prosperity and fertility. It’s the men who usually wear white.”

— “Oh! I didn’t know that! Well, I wish her the best of luck and lots of joy!”

— “Thank you, Tom. I appreciate it,” Adil replied, sincerely touched by his co-worker-turned-friend’s attention. 

— “So are you already packed?” 

— “Not yet,” Adil answered. “I’ll finish my bag as soon as I get back to my place.”

He couldn’t say “get back home”. The little dingy room had never felt like much of a home to begin with, and after that night, months ago, even less so. Home for Adil had always been either his parents’ place, or Toby’s arms. And unfortunately, he couldn’t have both at the same time. 

If someone had told him a year ago that he would one day be so deeply in love with a man that leaving him for three days would seem like an eternity, he would never have believed it. Not to mention the fact that this man would be his employer. 

— “I wonder how Mr Hamilton will survive without you for three days,” Tom said, stirring Adil from his thoughts. 

The head barman froze, trying hard to keep his face neutral. This was merely a coincidence. Tom had no way to know he was thinking about Toby. 

— “Oh? And why is that?” He asked, voice carefully controlled. 

— “Well, I mean, it’s always you who serves his drinks at the bar and brings coffee up to his room, the poor chap is going to be completely lost,” Tom answered in a joking tone. 

He did not seem to be implying anything, or at least, nothing negative. Adil had been walking on eggshells around Tom for a long time after the letter incident. At the time, he had been so desperate that he had not thought of the consequences. He was not supposed to be there to face them. But thinking back on it afterwards, he had realized that even someone as sweet and unsuspicious as Tom must have found it very odd that the bartender had needed to write a letter to his employer’s brother, a letter he couldn’t give him in person; not to mention the fact that said letter had made Mr Hamilton run out of the lobby like a madman in his evening suit and shoes.   
And yet Tom had never mentioned it again, nor changed anything in his behaviour towards Adil. From time to time, however, he made the kind of back-handed comment he had just then, and it made Adil wonder whether Tom was trying to get him to talk about it, to tell him the truth about his relationship with Toby. What puzzled him was that Tom never seemed threatening or judgmental; he did not seem to be trying to trick Adil, and he was never insistent. If Adil hadn’t known better, he would have felt like Tom was just offering him a friendly ear. But he knew this was wishful thinking. If the man really suspected anything, he would be revolted and not wanting anything to do with Adil anymore – or at the very least, he would try to ignore the shocking fact and pretend he knew nothing of it whatsoever. Assuming otherwise was a risk Adil could not afford to take. 

— “I’m sure he will be fine,” Adil replied, with calculated carelessness. “It’s just coffee. And scotch on the rocks, most of the time. Nothing too complicated. He probably won’t even notice I’m not here.” 

— “Sure,” Tom approved noncommittally.

He started talking about something else, and Adil breathed. 

***

Warm, soft lips landed on his as soon as he had crossed the threshold of the room and closed the door behind him.   
Adil wondered if he would ever get used to just how wonderful Toby’s kisses felt. Judging from the second and third kiss they had shared that fateful day in his room, he was a natural, but Adil was under the impression that he kept getting better and better. And there were his hands, the way they always touched his face, his neck, his shoulders, like he couldn’t get enough contact. Adil sighed in bliss, letting himself just enjoy it for a while. 

Months had passed since the fallout of the d’Aberville disaster, Toby’s heart-shattering rejection and his attempt at taking his own life. Getting over it and finding their way back to each other had been excruciatingly hard, in spite of all the love they felt. Neither Adil’s betrayal nor Toby’s cruel words were as easily dismissed as they had hoped they could be. But finally, after tearing open many festering wounds that sometimes dated back to long before they had even met each other, after many tears and “I’m sorry-s” and “I love you-s”, and promises of never doing anything like that ever again, they had succeeded. They were at one again, closer and stronger than before, and it was more than worth it. Adil still had bad days, but most of the time, he felt like his suicide attempt and the events that had driven him to it had been a terrifying nightmare, something that had happened in another life, another world. A world he prayed with all his might he would never so much as glimpse at again. 

— “How was your day?” Toby asked when they finally broke the kiss. 

— “Fine,” Adil answered, smiling. “No annoying guests, and no problems with the organisation. Everything’s sorted out. And everyone was very nice to me, considering the fact that I am abandoning the ship for three days.” 

— “You have the right to have some fun,” Toby replied. “You hardly ever take any days off. And it’s such an important occasion! If Mr Garland had refused, I would have…”

— “You would have done nothing, Toby,” Adil cut in firmly. “It’s too much of a risk, you know it.”   
Toby bit his lip. 

— “I know,” he mumbled. 

— “The important thing is that he did agree,” Adil said, intertwining their fingers. 

— “Thank God for Emma!”

— “Yes, she was very kind,” Adil nodded. “As always.”

— “She is the best,” Toby approved with a fond smile. 

Adil knew Toby considered Emma Garland like a sister. She was one of the only persons he felt really comfortable around – not comfortable enough to tell her the truth, of course, but as comfortable as possible. Obviously, Adil was not as close to her as he was with Tom, Sonny and Betsey, since she was his superior, but he could see what Toby saw in her; he appreciated her human qualities, and he felt grateful to her for the affection she gave Toby. 

— “What about you?” He asked. “How was your day?” 

— “It was alright,” Toby answered, “until my dear brother dropped on me that a friend of his and his cousin were coming to visit tonight and that he counted on me to make small talk with said cousin.” 

— “Oh,” Adil frowned. “And that cousin is a woman, I suppose?” 

— “No, no, God, it would be so much worse! He is a man, and Freddie is convinced we will get along famously, since apparently he is the ‘scholarly type’,” Toby replied, making quotation marks in the air. 

Adil let out a discreet sigh of relief. The idea of another prospective fiancée throwing herself at Toby was not one he relished, even if he wasn’t there to see it.

— “Oh, well, then, maybe your brother is right? Maybe you’ll like him! If he is a scholar, he may have interesting things to talk about.” 

— “Maybe. Or maybe he’ll just be insufferably pedantic,” Toby retorted petulantly. 

Adil chuckled. 

— “Don’t you always see the bright side of things!” 

— “Or maybe he’ll find me terribly boring,” Toby said in a lower voice. “Most people do, after all.”

Adil knew they were touching on the core of the matter. In spite of how much they communicated about it and how many efforts Toby was doing to see himself in a more positive light, years of mental abuse were still taking their toll on him. Adil wasn’t a hateful person, but the very thought of the late Lord Hamilton senior made him seethe with anger. 

— “Well I don’t,” he replied. “And Mr O’Hara doesn’t. Miss Garland doesn’t. And your mother and brother…”

— “Freddie does,” Toby cut in. 

— “No he doesn’t,” Adil retorted. 

— “He does. He may love me, but he does find me boring.”

— “He doesn’t!”

— “He does!”

— “Doesn’t!”

— “Does!” 

— “Alright, if you say so!” Adil capitulated, rolling his eyes at their childish exchange. 

—“There!” Toby exclaimed with mock-triumph, as though getting Adil to admit his brother did find him boring was a victory of its own. 

— “Theresa Buchanan didn’t,” Adil went on playfully. 

— “Oh shut up!” Toby exclaimed. 

They laughed. 

— “Just promise me you’ll at least try to enjoy yourself, alright?” Adil asked. “For me!” 

— “Alright” Toby relented. “I promise.”

— “Good,” Adil praised, giving him a peck on the lips.

— “Enough about the bloody cousin,” Toby said. “I have something to show you.” 

He opened a drawer and took out a flat rectangular parcel wrapped up in tissue paper. 

— “I bought something,” he said. “For your sister. You can give it to her and pretend it’s from you.” 

— “Toby, you didn’t have to,” Adil replied, half-touched, half-reproachful. 

— “I wanted to! It’s not much, really…I hope she’ll like it. Could you open it and tell me if it’s a good idea? We can fix the wrapping afterwards.”

Adil took the parcel from Toby’s hands and tried to open it without tearing it up too much. His eyes went wide as he discovered the beautiful silk scarf with intricate floral patterns contained within.

— “Toby!”

— “You don’t like it? The colours are not right? I knew it, I should have taken the other one…”

— “It’s not that…the colours are fine…it’s beautiful, but it’s too much! There is no way I could ever afford that!” 

— “You don’t have to afford that, it’s a gift!”

Adil sighed. He knew Toby still had difficulties grasping the extent of the disparity of their means. He did not mean to embarrass Adil, but he was so used to luxuries that their actual cost compared to a bartender’s wages was often completely lost on him. 

— “I know it’s a gift, Toby,” he said patiently, “but how do I explain to Priya how I suddenly got rich enough to buy her something like this? Or do you want me to tell her my employer took an inexplicable fancy to me and generously bought an expansive scarf for me to give my sister on her wedding day?” 

Toby’s face fell. 

— “Just tell her it’s not real silk…”

— “Priya’s a seamstress, Toby. She knows her fabrics.”

— “Well, then…tell her it was second hand…or something…”

He looked so crestfallen that Adil felt guilty for raining on his parade. 

— “I’ll figure it out,” he said, carefully depositing the parcel on the bed and grasping Toby’s hand. “I’m sorry I complained. It’s very sweet of you to have bought her a gift. Thank you!”

— “It was stupid,” Toby replied. “I am stupid.”

— “No, you’re not,” Adil retorted firmly. “You’re smart and brilliant…but you’re also a bit thoughtless sometimes. It’s fine.”

— “It is?”

— “Yes,” Adil said. “We all have our flaws. And if you were any different, you wouldn’t be my Toby.”

— “I like being your Toby,” his lover replied softly. 

Adil could have melted right on the spot. 

— “I really should have thought it out better, though,” Toby resumed talking. “It’s just… She’s my sister too, you know…in a way…and your parents and your brother, they are my family too. I know they will probably never know, but I wish they did. I wish I could be there with you.”

Adil swallowed the lump that had started to form in his throat. 

—“I wish you could be there too,” he said. “So much.” 

They hugged, and Adil buried his face in the crook of Toby’s neck, breathing in his scent.

— “I’m sorry,” Toby said at last. “I feel so selfish! But I’m so happy you’re going to see them, I really am!”

— “I know you are,” Adil answered, softly stroking Toby’s cheek. “And I know exactly how you feel. It’s the same for me. I want to see them, and I’m really excited, but I don’t want to leave you. Even just for three days.”

Toby kissed him again, tender and passionate, and Adil gave everything back. They didn’t have time for anything more, but it didn’t matter.

After a while, they stopped to catch their breath, and Adil glanced at the clock. 

— “I should really get going if I want to catch my train,” he said regretfully. 

— “Of course,” Toby assented. “You mustn’t miss it!” 

They embraced and kissed one last time.

— “Be careful,” Toby murmured against his lips. 

— “I will,” Adil promised. 

Toby reluctantly let go of him to open the door and glanced at both ends of the corridor. Adil grabbed his sister’s present and held his breath, waiting for his all-clear. That particular feeling never went away: the terror of being seen, and getting directly reported to the police or caught again in the infernal cycle of blackmail. This threat was constantly hanging above their heads, making their stolen moments all the more intense and precious, but also overwhelmingly fragile.   
Toby gestured for him to go, and Adil slipped out, forcing himself not to look back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos ! <3 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy the new chapter !

Toby took one last disenchanted look at the mirror before stepping out of his room. This wasn’t a formal occasion, so there was no need for a fancy evening suit and he was spared the laborious task of tying a bow tie. Still, he had to look as smart and neat as possible. He had done his best, but as always, he felt that he looked more like a scarecrow than anything else. He envied Freddie his natural poise. Not to mention Adil, who would have looked like a prince even in rags. After all, it didn’t matter. He had no one to impress. 

He met Freddie in the lobby and both men waited for their guests to arrive. They were punctual – one of them was army-trained after all. 

— “Harry!” Freddie exclaimed as soon as he saw his friend. 

— “Freddie, old boy!” 

The men hugged briefly, patting each other’s back and grinning. 

Lieutenant Henry Blagden had been part of Freddie’s unit until an eye injury had forced him to prematurely put an end to his career as a RAF pilot. He was now training new recruits on another base. Freddie had told Toby several times how much he admired Henry; not only for his past military prowess but also for the way he had gotten back on his feet after that shrapnel had claimed his left eye and shattered his dream. Most men would have taken it hard, but Henry had immediately chosen to focus on the fact that he was alive and did not suffer any aftereffects, which was indeed a true miracle. He was now sporting an impressive leather eye-patch that made him look like a rogue, and according to him, had quite an effect on the ladies, in the best sense of the term. 

Toby saluted the lieutenant with all due respect before turning to his companion, who Freddie had just finished greeting. 

— “Alistair St-John,” the man said with a smile, reaching for Toby’s hand to shake. “Very pleased to meet you. Lord Hamilton told me a lot about you.” 

— “Toby Hamilton. Nice to meet you,” Toby replied mechanically, studying the mysterious man his brother seemed so eager for him to meet. 

He looked no older than twenty-five. He was tall and lean, with raven black hair, fine features and stunning blue eyes circled by horn-rimmed spectacles. His smile was open, his handshake firm without being brutal. _Handsome_ , Toby couldn’t help thinking. The thought caught him by surprise: he had not been expecting that. He felt guilty for a second, before reminding himself that he wasn’t betraying Adil in any way by just objectively noticing another man’s good looks. 

— “Mr St-John is a researcher at Oxford, just like you were,” Freddie obligingly pointed out.

Toby had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. How subtle!

He almost felt like they were two specimens of a rare species that a zoologist wanted to put together in the same cage in the hope that they were going to mate.  
This utterly incongruous and even more utterly improper thought made him stifle a nervous chuckle. 

St-John’s amused smile told him he was probably having the same kind of thought – hopefully not as incongruous or improper, though. 

— “It’s always a pleasure to meet a fellow researcher,” the man nonetheless commented politely. 

— “Pleasure shared,” Toby replied, not sure yet how much of a lie or a truth this would turn out to be. 

They were soon seated at the table Freddie had secured earlier, changing his mind about the bar – four people lined up at the counter didn’t make for easy conversation. 

Toby saw Joe O’Hara in his usual spot and nodded at him with a regretful smile. Joe saluted him with his usual American nonchalance, smiling back at him and raising his glass in his direction. 

Freddie frowned but didn’t say anything. He was still wary of the journalist, and not quite ready to forgive him for what had happened between him and Emma, although Joe had been on his best behaviour ever since the night of the bombing, fulling respecting the young woman’s choice. Toby had heard two very different versions of these particular events from the two men and thought it gave him a pretty good idea of how things had actually occurred. He could have done with some input from Emma as well, but she had refused to give him any details – not that he had insisted that much. Women’s private business, especially matters of the heart, was a territory he didn’t feel safe trespassing on. 

Toby personally thought Freddie ought to cut Mr O’Hara some slack. After all, it had been months! But he also knew from personal experience that Hamiltons could be dangerously stubborn when it came to holding grudges. 

— “So, how long are you two staying in town?” Freddie asked once their first drinks of the evening had arrived. 

— “Not long, I’m afraid. I have two days’ leave, and then I’m back at the base. I had to fight tooth and nail with my mother so that she would let me go out and visit you this evening,” Blagden answered. 

— “That’s understandable,” Freddie commented. “She wants to make the most of your presence!” 

— “Oh, we all know that what was actually bothering her was the fact that I was taking Alistair with me,” Henry laughed. He is Mother’s favourite, even though he is only his nephew. “Aren’t you, Al?”

— “Would you please not call me Al, Harry?” St-John asked placidly. “As for being my aunt’s favourite, it is just an excuse for you to misbehave.” 

They made quite a strange pair, Toby remarked. The stocky, middle-sized blond officer with a jovial temper and a tad too familiar manners – Lady Hamilton would have said that this came from the bourgeois side of the family, Henry Blagden’s father being a mere (admittedly very wealthy) commoner ‒ and his tall, poised, black-haired aristocratic cousin who seemed to have seen it all from his unruly relative. 

— “Anyway, I’m probably going to be a good son for once and spend the rest of my leave quietly at home. As for Al…”

— “As for me,” St-John cut in firmly, “I have been in London since yesterday morning visiting mmy aunt, and I will probably stay one more day after Harry’s departure. Then I’ll have to go back to Oxford.” 

The conversation rolled for a while on family and the War, and the hotel, and Toby could make do with a few general comments and marks of agreement or attention.  
Alas, the moment inevitably came when Henry and Freddie started evoking shared memories of battle and military life, as well as news of their comrades, and Toby and St-John were effectively shut out of the exchange. 

— “So, Mr St-John,” Toby found it in himself to ask after several pointed looks from Freddie. “What field of research are you working in?”

— “I’m specializing in medieval history and literature, and their resurgence in 19th century Romanticism and Symbolism,” the man answered. 

Toby let out a discreet sight of relief. At least, he was actually interested in these subjects, and knew enough about them not to make a complete fool of himself. He had not been expecting something quite so comprehensive, though. It was rather remarkable. 

— “Two disciplines and two time periods, with a cross-cutting approach? That’s…very impressive,” he objectively said. 

St-John’s eyebrows rose. 

— “Well, I’ve been told you were well-versed in several branches of the mathematical sciences yourself?” 

— “I have good aptitudes for algebra and statistical analysis,” Toby approved. “But I do love history, and literature, too, though I’m obviously not as proficient as you are…” 

— “’Good aptitudes’?” Freddie butted in. “Well that’s one way to put it!” 

— “Freddie…”

— “My brother is way too modest, Mr St-John. He is actually brilliant in both fields.”

— “And _my_ brother is exaggerating,” Toby replied, feeling an unsightly blush creep up on his face. 

— “Well, I would say that your brother is obviously very proud of you,” St-John commented with a smile. 

— “That I am,” Freddie approved, looking Toby right in the eyes. 

The blush was replaced by a sudden constriction in his throat and Toby wondered in horror whether he was going to start crying right then and there. The thought of the sheer humiliation this would bring was enough for him to get a grip on himself. Not before the three other men had noticed something, though. 

— “Is everything alright, Mr Hamilton?” Henry Blagden asked with genuine concern in his voice. 

— “Quite alright, thank you, Lieutenant,” Toby replied, his voice sounding slightly hoarser than normal. 

Freddie didn’t say anything, just looking at him again, and a lot of things passed between them. A lot of things they would have to discuss later. But there were also things Toby would never be able to disclose to his brother, as much as he wished he could. 

— “Would any of you like another drink?” St-John asked in a casual tone, fortunately dissipating the awkwardness of the moment. “This round’s on me!”

Toby was oddly reminded of Adil. 

— “With pleasure,” he said, grateful for the well-timed intervention. 

St-John gestured for Tom to come over, and Toby noticed that he was smiling politely at the redhead bartender – something many patrons, including himself sometimes before he had met Adil, totally forgot to do, or more accurately, didn’t see the point of. Some of them – not him, thank God – were even downright rude, annoyingly snapping their fingers or barking at the staff whenever they felt they had been kept waiting one minute longer than they would have liked. As the only coloured bartender, Adil often had it worse than the rest of them, in spite of his senior position. 

All four of them ordered refills. 

— “So, Mr Hamilton, you were saying that you also had an interest in history and literature?” St-John asked, turning his attention back to Toby as they waited for the drinks to arrive. 

— “I do,” Toby assented. “I chose to specialize in mathematics, but I loved almost all of my Humanities classes. I took extra courses whenever I had the opportunity, and I read books…but, like I said, it’s surely nothing compared to your expertise…” 

— “Well, I am no mathematician myself, I’m afraid. My understanding of the discipline is rather limited, to say the least. I could never, for the life of me, make sense of an advanced algebra book. Not to mention be dedicated enough to take extra classes on top of a very demanding curriculum just for the sake of passion. So I think we can agree on the fact that I’m the one who should say he’s impressed,” St-John said with a half-smile. 

Toby opened his mouth and closed it, unable to find anything to say. 

Tom came back with their orders, and to Toby’s horror, Henry Blagden took advantage of the lull in the conversation to broach a much more dangerous subject. 

— “So, how are things going with the ladies?” He asked. “Are the two of you thinking of settling in?”

— “I don’t think now is the proper time to think about that,” Freddie replied. “We could die at any moment…”

Toby knew this was a touchy topic of conversation for his brother as well. Even though his situation with Emma was obviously not as complicated as Toby and Adil’s, it was still a mess. And as the new Lord Hamilton, Freddie had much more of a responsibility to make a good marriage than Toby. ‘Good’ meaning both socially acceptable and financially advantageous, of course. 

— “Well, that’s exactly why we should think about it!” Blagden replied. “Seize the day! I’ve seen death from up close, she took a little souvenir of me, and we parted on good terms! Till we meet again! In the meantime, I intend to make the most of my life. And make good use of my remaining eye by looking at as many pretty girls as I can.” 

— “And that’s what you call thinking about settling in?” Freddie scoffed. 

— “Well, considering that I’m more than willing to find the right lady, I would say yes, it is,” Henry replied good-naturedly. 

Freddie shook his head in exasperated fondness.

— “But Freddie, you will not make me believe that no one’s caught your eye,” Blagden said, apparently not deterred. “You have two of them, so no excuse.” 

— “I could have a third eye in the middle of my forehead that it wouldn’t help matters,” Freddie retorted drily. 

Toby knew he was making efforts not to give himself away by glancing at Emma, who had appeared in the room a few minutes ago, presumably to check that everything was going smoothly, and was lingering at Joe’s side, laughing at something the American was telling her. 

Unaware of his friend’s inner turmoil, Henry burst out laughing as well before turning his attention to Toby. 

— “What about you, Mr Hamilton? Do you have a beautiful fiancée?”

— “No, I don’t. Beautiful or otherwise,” Toby retorted, discreetly drying his sweating palms on his trouser legs beneath the table. “Sorry to disappoint you, Lieutenant.” 

— “A lady friend then? Or perhaps several?” 

— “I…no, I don’t have any lady friends,” Toby stammered. 

— “Really? How disappointing! We’ll have to help both of you remedy that sooner than later!” 

— “What about you, Mr St-John?” Toby hurriedly asked to get both his brother and himself off the hook. “Are you engaged?” 

— “No, I’m not. I’m afraid I wouldn’t make a suitable husband,” the man replied with a dismissive little smile. 

Toby stared at him, surprised, his heart suddenly beating a bit faster. 

— “Oh?” 

— “I spend way too much time in the library,” St-John explained, making Toby feel stupid for jumping to conclusions. 

— “The fool is so in love with his books he wouldn’t recognize a beautiful woman if he saw one, even with his bloody glasses on!” Henry exclaimed, familiarly poking his cousin’s shoulder. 

— “I gladly leave them all to you, Harry,” St-John replied peacefully.

He was still looking at Toby, who had to fight the urge to avert his eyes. The man’s blue stare was rather intense, framed as it was by said glasses. 

St-John dropped his gaze first though, and Toby was soon convinced he had been imagining things. 

On stage, Betsey Day and the Sunny Sullivan band started performing a dancing tune and several young ladies began throwing not-so-subtle looks in the direction of their table. A party of four unaccompanied young men was a godsend. 

— “Let’s dance!” Henry suggested enthusiastically. 

Toby groaned silently. He knew this moment would come. 

— “I…I don’t really feel like dancing right now,” he said, rather lamely. “But go, just…don’t mind me!” 

He threw a pleading look at Freddie, who was biting his lip hesitantly. 

Toby knew that if his brother could have his way, he would invite Emma and spend the whole evening dancing with her. As it was though, he still loved to dance and could have his pick of partners. He didn’t want to leave Toby alone at the table, but he couldn’t very well say no to his friend, who would then probably feel obligated to remain seated as well. 

— “Mr St-John?” He asked interrogatively, already standing and ready to go.

— “Actually I’m not much of a dancer myself, and I don’t think the ladies would fancy getting their feet treaded on,” the man answered with an apologetic smile. “I’d rather stay here, if Mr Hamilton doesn’t mind?” 

— “Not at all,” Toby hurriedly said, thanking heaven for his luck. Everything was better than dancing, and this way, he would not have to look as either the spoilsport or the poor lonely wallflower, none of these two options sounding very appealing. He had no book no occupy himself and ward off unwanted invitations. 

— “Alright,” Freddie said, looking almost equally relieved. “Then, we’ll be back later, gentlemen.” 

He hurried off to catch up with Henry, who was already smiling at a pretty brunette whose ginger friend was waiting expectantly for Freddie to reach their table as well. 

— “So, not one for dancing either, are you?” St-John asked lightly once they were left alone. 

— “Not really,” Toby replied. “Let’s just say I look more like the ugly duckling than a graceful swan when I try to move in rhythm with any sort of music. At least being a wallflower prevents me from elbowing someone in the eye.” 

St-John burst out laughing.

Toby felt his cheeks grow warm again. It was the first time he had said anything like that to a person of his social standing who he had just met. Somehow, strangely, he didn’t think St-John would judge him for that. 

— “Well, that’s a rather picturesque way of putting it!” The man exclaimed. “But I’m sure you are selling yourself short!”

— “And I can assure you I’m not,” Toby retorted. “What about you, Mr St-John?”

Toby had trouble picturing the man as anything less than the graceful swan type. In spite of his height, he was not at all gangly. His movements looked effortlessly elegant and smooth. 

— “Please, call me Alistair,” St-John asked. 

— “Then you have to call me Toby,” the Hamilton boy answered, his mind registering with some surprise that St-John had not yet asked Freddie to call him by his first name, although they had known each other longer. Well, he was probably going to do so as soon as Freddie would be back at the table.

— “Well, Toby, to answer your question, I have no record of ever elbowing someone in the eye.” 

He smiled playfully and Toby couldn’t help chuckling. 

— “That’s not a real answer,” he remarked.

— “Alright, then I confess that I often use the pretext of not being a good dancer so that I’m free to be a wallflower whenever I want to.” 

— “You want to?” Toby repeated, puzzled. 

— “Actually, yes. I enjoy a good conversation more than I enjoy dancing, and when I cannot have a good conversation, I enjoy observing people. I’ve found that you can learn a good deal just from watching other people dancing or dining. Of course, you must not be too obvious about it, or people will think you’re some sort of lunatic.” 

Toby laughed again. 

— “I hope you’re not speaking from experience?” 

— “Luckily, no. I have the advantage of wearing glasses. When people notice me looking at them, I just have to squint and look lost and they’re very quickly convinced that I’m a complete mole.” 

A fresh wave of hilarity took hold of Toby’s body. 

— “Well, I don’t have the same advantage, so I’d better not try to do that,” he said. “Besides, I’m not very observant.” 

— “Are you not?”

— “No, not really. Not when it comes to people, at least. That’s why I like working with numbers, I guess. Numbers are…easy to decipher.” 

There was a pause. Alistair seemed to be waiting for him to say more, but Toby didn’t feel like it. He was wondering why he had said that in the first place. The truth behind those words was a little frightening. 

— “Would you like a cigarette?” Alistair asked at last, producing a silver monogrammed cigarette-case and a lighter from his pocket.

— “Yes,” Toby answered, glad he would have something to fiddle with. “Thank you!” 

Alistair ignited his lighter and Toby moved closer to him to allow him to light his cigarette. 

There it was again. The stare. 

Toby sprang back in his seat, and then it was gone. Alistair was nonchalantly lighting his own cigarette and looking in the direction of the band. 

Toby took too deep a drag and stifled a cough. 

What was he thinking? There was nothing unusual about the way the man looked at him. He just wasn’t used to this eye colour, and the last time his face had been that close to another man’s, it had been with Adil in his room earlier. Adil with his soft, gorgeous black eyes he loved so much…  
The thought was anchoring, comfortingly familiar, but also very dangerous to entertain right now. Toby shook himself out of it and tried to focus on his interlocutor, who was presently addressing him again. 

— “Your brother told me you were currently working at the War Office?” 

— “Yes, I am,” Toby reluctantly admitted. “I’m sorry, this is very confidential and I…I’m not allowed to talk about it.” 

He could not afford to take any risks. Even after d’Aberville had been identified as the real spy, his office had been kept under close surveillance for weeks. The humiliating searches every time he left the building, the stern faces and suspicious looks, the sharp questioning whenever he did anything even remotely unusual, all of this had been going on and on, making it virtually impossible for him to turn over a new leaf and put this terrible mess behind him. 

His colleagues had paid the price for his imprudence as well, and two out of the three of them had resented him for a long time, making the atmosphere at work even more stifling. He was grateful to Peter Jenkins for not siding up with the others, and for telling him in private that it could have happened to any of them; but the man’s personal opinion didn’t weigh much in the balance, and he didn’t always jump to Toby’s defence when the other two colleagues saw fit to take out their resentment on him. His supervisor at the time of the d’Aberville fiasco, Ms Denham, had also supported him, much more vocally so, which Toby found all the more touching that he had most probably ruined the woman’s career. Her leniency in letting agents take documents out of the office to work at home had cost her her position, and she had been demoted to the function of senior typist. Toby knew how complicated it was for women to access decision-making and supervising positions, and he could only imagine how hard Ms Denham had worked to achieve what she had. And now it had all been taken away from her. He also knew that, where a male counterpart could likely be forgiven with time and climb the ladder again, a female agent had next to no chance of ever doing so. It was monstrously unfair, and Toby had felt sick with guilt upon learning the news. He had come to her to apologize, and she had assured him that he was not to blame, that she was taking full responsibility for the consequences of her own decisions, and that she wished him the best of luck. 

He had worked harder than ever, double checked every data, stayed after hours whenever needed, ignored every bitter jab from his colleagues, every disdainful frown from his new supervisor, and he knew he had objectively been doing a great job. He had contributed to saving as many lives as he had unwillingly put in jeopardy by now. And yet, things were only just starting to get back to normal. 

Toby knew that if anything else happened, he would not get away with a slap on the wrist this time. Or rather, a slap across the face. 

— “Of course,” Alistair answered. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to be indiscreet. But it must be such a comfort to know that you are contributing to the war effort! I wish I could find a way to help, concretely. I’m considering taking up medical training, since I cannot enlist.” 

— “Can’t you?” Toby asked without thinking. 

He realised too late that that sounded rather indelicate. 

— “I am short-sighted and have a heart murmur,” Alistair said with a derisive smile. “In other words, I am completely useless, army-wise. But I have to admit it’s rather fortunate, since I really cannot picture myself on a battlefield.” 

— “I can relate,” Toby replied. 

They smiled at each other knowingly. 

It felt good to be able to talk about this with someone who had such similar feelings. He was used to judgmental remarks from his peers for his cushy job at the War Office, when so many young men were risking their life to fight the enemy. Freddie was praised as a hero – which he was ‒ and Toby was looked down upon. Nothing new under the sun. Toby was the first to admit that his position was an enviably secure one – if one didn’t take into account German spies and blackmail ‒ but the barely veiled assumptions that he was a coward still stung, even though his hero of a brother himself didn’t think anything of the sort. 

— “Well, at least, unlike me, you can actually use your academic background for the greater good. As I told you, I am not one for mathematics or statistics or chemistry…I do not specialize in geopolitics either. So my options are very limited. The only fields I’ve studied that could be even remotely relevant are Germanic languages and cryptology.”

— “Cryptology?” Toby reacted, interest piqued. 

— “Yes. It’s an old hobby of mine. As a student, I once wrote a paper on the use of encrypted texts by the Elizabethan secret services…”

— “Oh! I would love to read it!” Toby exclaimed enthusiastically. 

— “You would?” 

— “Yes! I mean…if you would like me to, of course,” Toby amended, embarrassed at his own over-the-top reaction. 

— “I’d be honoured. I take it you’ve studied cryptology too?” 

Toby nodded. 

— “I’m not surprised! You must be brilliant at it!” 

— “I don’t know if I can say that. But I find it fascinating. The expectation, the patience it takes to encode or decode a document…those myriads of different combinations and possibilities…”

Toby stopped, once again trying to reign in his exaltation. He definitely wasn’t used to talking so freely with a near stranger.

— “I know exactly what you mean,” Alistair assured, looking intently at him. “And there is something thrilling about the secrecy, too, isn’t it? Being able to put your inner thoughts out in the open and share them with someone without risk of indiscretion or censorship…”

— “It…yes, I guess there’s that, too,” Toby stammered. 

This was hitting dangerously close to home. But how could Alistair know about him?? This had to be a coincidence. This was a coincidence. No need to get all worked up about it. _Breathe, Toby_. 

Alistair smiled. 

— “So, do you plan to go back to research after the war?” 

— “I don’t know…I mean, I love my job…” (yes, he still did, in spite of everything) “but I miss Oxford sometimes. Quite often, to be honest. But I have…people I care about here. My family…”

_Adil._

— “Yes, I understand. You and your brother are twins, is that right? I imagine you must be very close?” 

Somehow, Alistair’s question didn’t feel intrusive. He just seemed genuinely interested in Toby’s feelings.

— “We weren’t, for a long time. But now, we get along very well, yes. What about you? Do you get along well with your brothers?” 

— “I do, yes, although I wouldn’t say we are exactly close. We’re too different, I suppose. We still like each other dearly, though. They’re both currently serving in the military too. Edgar is in the land forces and Gerald is in the navy.”

— “It’s…frightening, isn’t it?” Toby breathed. 

There was a pause, and Toby wondered for a brief moment whether he had crossed a line. Gentlemen weren’t supposed to talk about being frightened for their family members who were serving the country. They were supposed to be proud. Only proud. Stiff upper lip in all circumstances. 

But then Alistair took a long drag of his dying cigarette with a sad, faraway look and answered:

— “Yes. It is bloody terrifying.” 

Toby got the sense that he was referring to the War as a whole, not merely their fraternal fears. 

They were silent for a few minutes before Toby found the courage to try and change the subject. 

— “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know what came over me; I didn’t mean to darken the atmosphere. Let’s talk about something more cheerful.” 

Alistair smiled softly, his eyes brightening again, like clouds dissipating in a summer sky. 

— “Alright, he said. "What would you like to talk about?” 

— “Why don’t you tell me more about good old Oxford?”

— “There’s quite a lot to say! What would you like to know?”

— “Well, I don’t know…what do enjoy studying the most? Which of your papers makes you the proudest? What professors made the strongest impression on you?” 

His own eagerness surprised him again. Yes, he missed his scholarly days, more that he had realized. 

— “I used to attend Professor Tolkien’s Old English classes,” Alistair replied. “They were fascinating!” 

— “Tolkien? You’re so lucky! I know him from reputation, and I’ve read some of his works, but I never managed to attend his classes. There was no way they could fit in my schedule,” Toby said regretfully.

The variety of his fields of interest had often led to rather heart wrenching choices. Toby wished he had had the power to be in several places at the same time – more precisely, several buildings on the Oxford University grounds – and able to follow as many history, linguistics and literature classes as he would have liked in parallel with his scientific curriculum. 

— “That’s a shame,” Alistair sympathized. “The man is a veritable well of knowledge! And what a creator, too! He’s published a children’s book about three years ago called ‘The Hobbit’. Have you heard of it?” 

— “The Hobbit?” Toby repeated, remembering how much he had liked the book – even though he had technically been way too old for it. “Yes, I…I’ve read it, actually.”

— “You have?” Alistair exclaimed. “My God, I feared I was the only one who had wanted to read it at over twenty years old! My brothers will never let me live it down, though!”

— “I can imagine,” Toby replied, not caring to mention that his father had caught him with it during one of his mandatory visits to his family for the holidays, shamed him for reading ‘nancy fairy tales’ and thrown the book into the fire. 

Toby had bought another copy, hoarded it in his room, read Smaug’s lines in his father’s voice and internally cried with joy when the beast had finally been slayed. 

— “Professor Tolkien is the greatest linguistic of our time, I think. Can you believe he’s actually invented entire languages?” 

— “Really?” Toby exclaimed. 

— “Yes! It is not exactly official, but it is rumoured that he is drafting a whole mythology and culture around these made-up languages. It is said that he drew up inspiration from Scandinavian languages, but he managed to develop a complete phonologic and morphological system…but I’m sorry, you probably don’t want me to go into so much detail,” Alistair interrupted himself, suddenly looking unsure. “I don’t want to bore you to death!”

He seemed sincere, unlike most people of their class Toby had met before, who were just pretending to apologize and ready to keep on rambling about the same topic once their interlocutor had given them leave to do so, out of contrived politeness. 

— “No, not at all!” Toby replied just as sincerely. “That’s very interesting! Please go on!” 

Toby caught a glimpse of Freddie’s smirking ‘I told you so’ face looking at him over the shoulder of his current dancing partner and bit his lip, ignoring him.

Adil had made him promise he would try to enjoy himself, and he was starting to realize it would not be as hard as he had imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...tell me what you think of the mysterious guest ! I hope he did not disappoint ! 
> 
> Also, I have no idea where Lady Hamilton is ! Let's say she retired early or was visiting a friend...


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to Adil and Toby in this chapter! 
> 
> Warning : several mentions of Adil's suicide attempt
> 
> Additional warning for sexual content

The past three days had been a whirlwind of emotions for Adil. 

As soon as he had arrived at his parents' place, he had found himself surrounded by familiar smells, sounds, tastes, all this world of half-erased memories – or rather, memories he had pushed deep inside him, hidden and locked up like precious relics whose possession made him too vulnerable for him to dare expose them to the light. 

Adil sometimes forgot how radically different his life in London was from what he used to know as a child and an adolescent. He sometimes forgot how much he had chosen to leave behind. Of course, living apart was easier. Lying on paper was easier than face-to-face – that much had been obvious for the past three days. He was lucky everyone was kept too busy with the wedding preparation and ceremony to ask him too many questions. Lying to patrons and co-workers was easy. Lying to people he loved, people who had known him since he was born, was another thing entirely. It was necessary, but it hurt, terribly, to be hiding so many things, so many crucial events that had happened in his life. Falling in love. Being loved back. Being blackmailed. Betraying the man he loved. Betraying the country that had become his, for better or worse. Being found out and rejected. Being so ashamed, so devastated, so desperate that he had wanted to die. There had been a moment, when he had stepped out of the train at the station, when his mother had wrapped her arms around him tight while his father laughed and said silly things to try and hide his emotion, when he had seen Dhani, a good head taller than him at fifteen, and Priya with her hands and upper arms already covered with the complex _mehndi_ patterns, a terrible moment where he had felt dizzy, overwhelmed, chocking with unspeakable words. _I tried to kill myself. A man blackmailed me and threatened to have you deported and I stole secret documents for him. I stole them from my lover. He found out. He hated me. I thought he hated me. And I thought you were still in danger, and I was terrified, and ashamed, and desperate. I couldn’t see an out. I didn’t know what to do. I was drowning. I gave up. I wanted to die. I really did. I failed, but I tried. I could have succeeded. I could be dead now. I would not be there with you. I could have died without seeing you again, without a word. I am sorry._

He had swallowed them all, pretending to be tired from the train ride when his mother had noticed his lack of enthusiasm, and tried to focus on the fact that he was there, he was alive, and he should enjoy it while he could. And most of the time, he had succeeded. He had managed to forget, to let himself be swept up by the common frenzy and excitement, to laugh and dance and eat like everyone else. He had let himself believe that he could belong again, even though he knew it wasn’t true. Everyone, from a bunch of neighbours who had known him as a child to his sister’s co-workers and the groom’s family, was very welcoming. 

His new brother-in-law, Rajiv, seemed to be a very nice man, who was clearly deeply in love with Priya. Adil was relieved. He knew how much his parents loved their daughter, but he also knew that the social and cultural pressure that called for convenient weddings arranged between families was strong, even in England. Most Indian families in their neighbourhood were very traditional, and despite Priya’s written assurances that she and her betrothed actually had feelings for each other, had grown closer without any outside intervention and were very happy, Adil couldn’t help worrying. He no longer did now that he had seen them together. Priya was radiant, and Adil knew straight away she had found the right man. Rajiv would respect and support her as she deserved. 

Of course, the bride being the most solicited person at a wedding, brother and sister had not had that much time to catch up, but Priya had done her best to save a few precious moments just for him. Adil had taken advantage of one of those to give her Toby’s gift, not wanting to attract too much attention with it. 

Priya had loved the silk scarf, seemingly accepting the idea that Adil had bought it in a second-hand shop, and she had worn it this morning to see him off at the station. It suited her nicely, and Adil’s heart had jumped in his chest at the thought that his sister was actually wearing something Toby had chosen for her, even though she didn’t know anything about him. It almost felt like his two worlds were finally colliding. It was an illusion, but a beautiful one. 

Adil had refused the week-worth of leftover food his mother had wanted him to take, not wanting to attract nasty looks or unpleasant remarks on the train and underground by travelling with curry-smelling food. He had enough racist slurs thrown at him on a daily basis as it was. Besides, there was no way he could eat all of that before the food turned sour. He regretted it. He did eat Indian food sometimes in London, but of course, it never tasted quite like his mother’s dishes. He had accepted a generous portion of _halwa_ , though. There was no danger of spicy smell with that, and the cake was one of his favourite desserts. He wished he could smuggle a portion into the hotel to give it to Toby. And he could also give some to Tom, and the other barman, Jeffrey, and Betsey and Sonny. 

The train ride back had been strange, like stepping back into a lonely, inimical grey world after the explosion of noisy joy and vibrant colours that had been the wedding. He was the foreigner again, the brown man in a white world, the colonial token. And yet he had to admit to himself that he had felt misplaced at the wedding too, him, the secret homosexual who was sleeping with his white employer, and could have gotten his whole family deported because of that; the man who had been coerced into treason and pushed to suicide, and who felt like a fraud every time his mother gushed to the guests about “her eldest son who worked in a palace hotel in London”, even though it was him, and it was what he did. 

He thought of Dhani, of his big dark eyes filled with a mix of shyness, rancour and admiration, who obviously didn’t know where to stand with this older brother he remembered fondly from his childhood but still resented for leaving, and for not coming back often enough. Dhani who was now about the age Adil had been when he had departed for London, and who he knew so little about. The boy had grown more approachable and talkative as time went by, telling Adil more about what he liked to do (playing chess, going to the pictures whenever he had enough money from helping Papa at the shop, learning how to swing when Maa wasn’t looking, and reading science magazines). 

He had also bombarded Adil with all sorts of questions about life in London and what kind of music was in trend and did he ever go to clubs and did he ever taste the fancy cocktails he made for the nobs at the hotel and what was it was like with the blackout and the bombings, and whether he had seen the King and the Princess Elizabeth who was pretty nice-looking for a white girl, wasn’t she, half of which Adil had no answer to or was forced to answer by the negative. 

Dhani had seemed disappointed, and curiously, Adil had felt almost grateful to him for it, as if not living up to his little brother’s expectations meant that at least someone was seeing right through him. 

When he got back to his lodgings, and finally got to close the door behind him after cutting short the landlady’s inquisitive questions and pointless gossip in the most diplomatic way possible, Adil put his night bag on the floor and the carefully wrapped-up cake on the table, sat on the bed and cried. 

***

His shift felt like it was dragging on and on the next day. He was still tired from the journey, from the emotion, from the effort of keeping his mask on for three days. He was tired of Tom’s well-meaning questions and Betsey’s interest (she had wanted him to give her a precise description of the bride’s outfit, hairdo and jewels), however nice it was to know that they cared. The smiles were plastered to his lips, the professional bartender one for patrons and the suitably friendly one for his co-workers, and he was used to it, so used to it, and so tired. 

All he wanted to do was go to Toby’s room and hold him and be held back, and be free to talk about those three days without having to cut out the negative parts. Because even though there were so many things Toby would never know or understand, there were so many others that he _would_. Toby could understand him better than anyone else right now.

But Toby wasn’t there, Toby was at work, and would not be back for hours. Maybe he was having a rough day too. He never said anything about how he was doing at work, for fear of reopening old wounds and sending Adil spiralling again, but Adil could read between the lines, could guess a lot from Toby’s tense shoulders, furrowed brow, faraway looks and nervous hand gestures, from the way he sometimes just wanted to cuddle on the bed with Adil, letting him stroke his hair and trying to breathe in sync with him until the strain went away. Adil didn’t ask questions. He didn’t need to. For both of them, there were still days when it was all too much, and they tried to be there for each other as best they could. 

For now, Adil had no choice but to soldier on, and he just put himself on autopilot, smiling, taking orders, shaking cocktails, pouring liquors, smiling, starting over. Even Joe O’Hara didn’t manage to get through to him. The friendly American was by far his favourite patron, apart from Toby, but he could no more than Tom or Betsey give Adil the outlet he craved. 

Finally, finally, he saw the familiar silhouette appear. Toby was talking with his mother and brother, but his eyes darted to the bar at the first opportunity. 

He didn’t look particularly stressed or tired, which meant his day had probably been relatively good. Adil couldn’t help feeling relieved, not only for Toby, but for himself as well. If Toby had been tense and frustrated, Adil knew he would have focused on his needs and minimized his own, in spite of the promise they had made to each other to always be honest about how they felt. They still had progress to make. 

Toby could not come to the bar straight away. He dined with his family, and Adil did not dare trade posts with Tom to serve them at the table.  
He had to wait for a little longer, but the mere presence of his lover nearby was already making it easier. 

When Toby finally was at the counter, seated beside Mr O’Hara, Adil knew from his looks that he was aware something was wrong. 

When their fingers brushed around Toby’s glass, the barely-there touch felt like both a comfort and a promise. 

Toby stayed downstairs as long as he could before finally pretending to retire for the night, and Adil furtively climbed up the stairs as soon as his shift was over, a dummy tray of coffee in his hands just in case, although Toby didn’t need it anymore since he was no longer allowed to bring work at home.

When Toby opened the door in response to his soft knock, Adil hastily put the tray on the floor, barely giving his lover any time to lock the door before throwing himself at him, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in the crook of his neck. He felt Toby’s arms closing around him and let out a deep sigh. 

— “What’s wrong?” Toby murmured, concerned. 

— “Nothing,” Adil replied. “I’m fine, it’s just…I’ve missed you.” 

It was a lot more complicated than that, but it still summed it up somehow.

— “I’ve missed you too,” Toby answered softly. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Adil felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. 

Toby had gotten much more perceptive and attentive to his moods over the months, and at this time, it was a real comfort. 

— “Is it the wedding?” Toby asked. “Did something happen?” 

Adil shook his head, feeling tears prickling in his eyes. 

— “No,” he said. “Nothing happened…it was everything it was supposed to be…but I...I didn’t think it would be so hard.”

— “What do you mean?” 

— “It’s just…I love them so much, and it was so wonderful to see them, and be there for Priya…but I feel like they don’t really know me anymore. I am not who they think I am. And it’s stupid, really, but I guess it had not really hit me until I saw them…that I could have died, and slip out of their lives like that…and I thought about how selfish that was, how selfish I had been…”

— “Selfish??” Toby exclaimed. “Adil, you’re not selfish! You’re the most selfless person I’ve ever met! And that’s the problem! You weren’t trying to save yourself, you just wanted to protect them, to protect me…”

— “Well I went about it the wrong way, didn’t I?” Adil retorted sarcastically. 

— “Yes, you went about it the wrong way. But so did I. We were upset and terrified and we messed up terribly. Both of us. But it’s not our fault. It’s d’Abberville’s.” 

— “I know,” Adil replied. “But I can’t help feeling like that. They all looked so pleased to see me, they told me they had missed me and that I should write more often…I didn’t even send them a letter before…” he chocked. 

He had tried, after writing the fateful letter to Toby. He had tried to get something else out on paper for his family. Tell them he loved them and was grateful to them. But he had not been able too. What was the point? He didn’t want them to know he had killed himself. The gas leak was inconspicuous enough for them to believe it had been an accident. A letter would probably have done more harm than good. 

Toby’s heart was in his throat. He couldn’t talk, and what could he possibly have said anyway? He still felt in his guts the terror and the guilt and the heart-wrenching emotions he had felt when reading Adil’s farewell letter. As much as he had tried to forget them, he knew he could still recite all the words by heart. But if Adil had decided not to write to him…if he had decided to go away silently, to just _disappear_ like Toby had asked him to…Toby would not have been able to save him. And then…then he hoped he would have died when that bomb fell, because he could never have lived with himself after that. 

He made an effort to get a grip on himself. This wasn’t about him. This was about Adil and his family.

— “I understand,” he said hoarsely, even though he wasn’t sure he did. He just wanted Adil to know that he was listening, that he was _there_. 

— “One of the reasons I left for London was because it was becoming too hard to pretend,” Adil went on. “I already knew I was never going to be what they expected me to be. I knew that if I stayed I would either snap and tell them the truth and disrupt their life completely, or I would smother an essential part of myself by trying to fit in, and I’d be miserable either way, and make other people miserable in the process. I thought I could live my life and still keep them in it without anyone getting hurt…but I should have known that you can’t have it both ways.”

— “You are doing the best you can,” Toby said fiercely. “You shouldn’t be forced to hide who you are. You shouldn’t have to choose between your family and your private life. You’re torn and you’re hurting just because society doesn’t accept men like us. It’s not fair, but it doesn’t change who you are. It doesn’t make you any less of a good person, a good son and a good brother.”

— “Even though I lie to them all the time? Even though I haven’t really seen my little brother grow up because I only come back home once in a blue moon? Even though I could ruin their lives by getting them all deported because of what I choose to do in my private life?” 

Toby felt the familiar guilt rise in his chest once more, but forced himself to push it away. 

— “It’s not a choice, Adil, you know that! None of this is! And yes, even then. You say you’re not who they expected you to be, but who you are is a wonderful, brave, generous person who would do anything to keep them safe. They should be proud of you no matter what!” 

— “I’m not brave,” Adil retorted. “If I were, I would have stood up to d’Abberville. I would have found a way. And I wouldn’t have tried to kill myself. You know what they say about suicide, right?”

 _Suicide is for cowards_. The stupid, nasty, thoughtless piece of narrow-minded judgement made Toby’s blood boil. 

— “Those who say that have no idea what they’re talking about,” he said. “They’ve obviously never been in this place, they have no right to judge! And God, you _are_ brave, Adil! Brave enough to leave everything you knew behind to come to London at such a young age, brave enough to believe in yourself and become the head barman of The Halcyon regardless of what people could say. Brave enough to kiss me in the wine cellar and confront me about it the next day. Brave enough to offer me to take the blame when d’Abberville found out about us, and brave enough to want to go to the police and say you had stolen those documents, even though you knew exactly what they would put you through if you did. If that’s not bravery, then I don’t know what is!”

Adil was looking at him now, his dark eyes large and unblinking, still shining with unshed tears, but now with something else, too, something like amazement.  
Toby caught his breath, still heated up from his passionate rant. Next thing he knew, Adil was kissing him. 

Toby responded on instinct, welcoming Adil’s mouth on his as he had always done. Even the first time, completely taken by surprise, he had actually kissed him back for a short while, before reality and panic had kicked in. 

— “Thank you,” Adil breathed when they broke the kiss.

— “What for?” Toby asked, still rather flushed.

— “For everything. For being there, for listening to me. For saying all that and making me feel better.”

— “You’re feeling better? Really?” Toby asked hopefully, glad to know he had been doing something right. 

— “Yes,” Adil said. “Really. You can be quite convincing when you want to be.”

— “At your service”, Toby replied, bowing comically. 

Adil chuckled, which Toby counted as another victory.

— “Seriously, though. Thank you. I know none of these issues are going to disappear or solve themselves anytime soon...but at least they're off my chest now. I couldn’t hold them in anymore.”

— “I understand,” Toby assured. “And you don’t have to thank me. You put up with all my ramblings and insecurities all the time, it’s the least I can do to be there for you as well.”

— “I don’t put up with it, Toby. Don’t make it sound like a chore when it’s not! I hate seeing you distressed, but I like being there to help you through it.”

— “Well now you know why I was convincing. I learned from the best.”

— “Well it seems I still have a lot of work to do,” Adil replied. 

He often lamented the fact that his compliments and praise seemed to have no lasting impact on Toby’s self-image. He knew it was a long process, and that he had likely done a lot already, even if it wasn’t immediately apparent, but he wished Toby could see himself through his eyes on a permanent basis. 

— “I’m high-maintenance,” Toby said, shrugging. “What can I say?”

— “It’s worth it,” Adil replied sincerely. A thought crossed his mind and he smiled. “Priya loved your gift, by the way.” 

Toby’s eyes brightened. 

— “Did she?” 

— “Yes. And the colours were perfect. She looked beautiful with it.” 

— “I’m sure she did,” Toby said. “I’m glad she liked it!”

— “It’s stupid…what I said earlier…I probably made it sound like those three days were all doom and gloom, but it really wasn’t like that…not all the time.”

— It’s not stupid…and no, you didn’t. You also said that it was wonderful.”

— “Yes, it was. I guess that’s what made it so hard…If that makes sense.”

— “I think it does,” Toby said thoughtfully. 

— “I’m so happy for Priya,” Adil continued. “It’s not always been easy for her, you know, being the eldest and all. She was more conscious than me of what we were leaving behind when we emigrated. And later, when Maa was pregnant with Dhani, there were complications, and she had to stay in bed for a while. Priya was just ten, but she was doing her best to take care of everything and everyone. And she never complained. Not once. Those past three days, she had to bear with my mother and her mother-in-law and other female attendants all fussing over her and bickering constantly, and she did not even lose her temper. She’s always been a joyful girl, she smiled all the time when we were younger, but I don’t think I’d ever seen her looking so radiant. And you should have seen the way Rajiv looked at her at the ceremony, like she hung the moon and stars!” 

— “I know the feeling,” Toby murmured, looking intently at Adil. 

— “So do I,” Adil replied.

There was a pause, as they gazed at each other lovingly. 

— “I think she guessed something,” Adil finally said. “Priya. There was a moment when we were alone, and she asked me if I had met someone…I said no, and she didn’t push, but now I think she knew I was lying.”

— “You think she knows about you?” Toby asked, eyes wide. 

— “No, not the truth, but she may think I’ve met someone and don’t want to talk about it because it’s a white girl.”

There was something so absurd in this statement, so risible, that they almost felt like laughing it out. 

— “And your parents?” Toby asked carefully. “Did they ask you any questions about that?” 

He didn’t know Adil’s parents, but he knew how his own mother got. 

— “Not really, but there were hints about my age and situation that made it clear what they were aiming at. And I was strongly incited to make small talk with my brother-in-law’s cousin, Jesminder.”

Toby’s heart clenched. He objectively knew that these sorts of set ups must be just as annoying and unsettling for Adil as they were for him, but he couldn’t help also feeling slightly jealous. 

— “Is she very pretty?” he asked, as though it made any difference. 

— “Yes,” Adil answered with a sly smile. “Also very female and very… _not you_.” 

— “I still hate her for being allowed to flirt with you in public,” Toby answered. 

— “I wouldn’t stay flirt,” Adil replied. “She’s a respectable Indian girl after all. We merely exchanged a few pleasantries. And at least, you weren’t there to witness it.”

He couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of his voice, and Toby noticed it. 

He knew how painful it was for Adil to watch him with all the high-born girls Lady Hamilton kept throwing his way, even though Toby never showed the slightest hint of interest in any of them. He knew he would have felt the same way watching all these pretty Indian girls gravitate around Adil at the wedding – he knew there must have been more than one. Adil was young and beautiful; he was surely considered first-class fiancé material. 

— “Well I’m glad I wasn’t,” he murmured. 

— “Anyway, I’m not in any real danger. I made it clear to my parents that I’m not rich enough to marry right now, and I know they agree. I couldn’t provide for a family. I think that’s the only reason I’m glad I am not making more money.” 

Toby didn’t dare say he was happy about that as well, knowing it would be inappropriate. 

— “What else did you do?” He asked instead. 

— “Well there was lots of dancing,” Adil said. 

— “You danced with this girl?” 

— “No,” Adil replied. “Indian dances don’t always require a partner. Men often dance all together and women too.”

—“Show me?”

— “No,” Adil replied adamantly. “I’m not dancing for you.” 

— “Please?” Toby pouted. 

— “No,” Adil refused again, laughing at his lover’s antics. “It’s ridiculous, we don’t even have the right music to play!”

— “Well… Maybe at our wedding, then?”

— “Our wedding?”

Adil’s heart soared and clenched in turn. He had thought about it too, watching Priya and Rajiv tie the knot, with all his family happy and laughing, looking with pride at the glowing couple. He had pictured himself in a white _sherwani_ , with Toby by his side in an elegant suit, eyes full of love. But it was no use thinking about it. It would never happen. Even if one day their love stopped being illegal, stop being a crime worthy of a prison sentence and social ruin, men like them would never be allowed to marry. Marriage was too symbolic, held too much religious weight, whatever that religion was. Marriage meant recognizing that the love between two men could be holy. Marriage meant seeing them as people who could fully commit to another person, and give all of themselves to that person, instead of being lustful, promiscuous perverts. Society was nowhere near ready for that.

Adil knew that if he ever talked about Toby to his family, their reaction would certainly not be one of pride and joy. 

He could see it all clearly in his head: his father’s shame, his mother’s tears, Priya’s pity and Dhani’s disgust. He couldn’t bear it. He refused to shatter everything, to brutally tear off his roots and find himself even more alienated and isolated than he already was. He didn’t think they would stop loving him. He couldn’t imagine that. They would not even really reject him at first. They would likely be well-meaning and try to help him. But they would view him as someone cursed, tainted, led astray by evil powers, someone who had to be brought back in the right path, someone who had to change and renounce his misguided ways. They would view his love and desire as something inherently wrong, twisted, unnatural. He knew he would not have the strength to hear these words coming out of his parents’ mouths. He would not have the courage to stand in front of them and watch their faces fell as he told them that he was never going to change and marry a girl, that he wasn’t ashamed, that he loved a man with all his soul and didn’t see how that could possibly be wrong. 

And yet he felt immensely sad knowing that he would never get to introduce Toby to them, Toby who had so much love to give and had received so little of it from his own family over the years compared to Adil. Toby who would have loved them, given the chance, even though they weren’t from the same social standing or the same origin, just like he loved Adil. 

— “It’s a dream, Toby,” he said. 

— “I know. But it’s good to dream sometimes, isn’t it?” 

There was so much hope in Toby’s voice that Adil could feel it too, for a moment. 

— “Yes,” he said, smiling softly. “I guess it is.” 

There was a pause, each of them seeing their own perfect vision.

Adil finally shook himself up, not wanting to dwell on it any longer. He feared unfounded hopes could become almost as dangerous as desperation, and he knew something of the latter. 

— “What about you?” He asked to steer the conversation away from that particular subject. “How did it go with the guest?” 

Toby seemed to understand and took the bait without protesting. 

— “Quite well, actually. Turned out Freddie was right about me getting along well with him.”

— “Really?”

— “Yes. Alistair was really nice and we had a very interesting conversation. He is a history and literature researcher, so he definitely knows what he is talking about, but he doesn’t brag about it.”

— “I will not say ‘I told you so’,” Adil smirked. “I guess your brother already did.”

— “Yes,” Toby groaned. “Freddie’s never going to let me live it down!” 

— “And you’re already on a first name basis?” Adil remarked, rather surprised. It had taken a lot of time and efforts on the American’s part to get Toby to call Mr O’Hara by his Christian name. 

— “He asked me to call him Alistair,” Toby replied, shrugging. “We’re almost the same age after all, so it’s fine.”

— “Right,” Adil approved. “Is he going to visit again soon? Will I have a chance to see him?”

— “No, he had to go back to Oxford. But he promised he would send me some books that we talked about,” Toby answered, his expressive eyes shining with excitement. 

He looked like a child who had been promised a new toy. Adil found it positively endearing.

— “Well, the man certainly knows how to get in your good graces,” he chuckled. 

— “I think you would like him, though. He was very polite with the staff all evening. And he really doesn’t sound like a snob, or worse, a racist.”

— “If you like him, there is a good chance I’ll like him too,” Adil said. 

— “I don’t even know if we’ll ever meet again,” Toby replied thoughtfully. 

— “But you’d like to, wouldn’t you?” 

—“Yes, I think so,” Toby admitted. “He made me feel…at ease, like I could be myself around him without being ridiculed for it. And I guess he was himself around me too. At least it felt that way.” 

— “I’m glad,” Adil said sincerely. “It’s always good to make a new friend.” 

He didn’t voice the rest of his thoughts aloud: Toby’s self-esteem being as low as it was, it could only be a good thing for him to see that people other than Adil, Miss Garland or his own family – and one Mr Joe O’Hara – could enjoy his company. And, in particular, enjoy it more than his brother’s. 

— “It does feel awfully nice,” Toby admitted. He paused, biting his lip, before he resumed talking: “I never had that many friends, you know. Even at Oxford…When I was younger, most of the people I spent time with were really there for Freddie. Or because they wanted me to help them with their assignments. At least that’s what it felt like to me. I never really…connected with anyone. And I had those…feelings…sometimes, around other boys. I was not sure what they meant at the time, I just knew they were not…normal feelings, and I didn’t want anyone to find out. So I just isolated myself more and more. I spent most of my time at the library. And then as a researcher, I guess I was just sick of the competition and petty rivalries, and I didn’t want to try and make friends anymore. I told myself I was fine on my own. And I was, most of the time.” 

Adil felt his heart break at everything that was left unsaid behind these words. Most of the time. 

But he knew Toby, beautiful, oblivious Toby, and he felt sure that he must have unknowingly pushed away some genuinely well-meaning people because of his insecurities. And he was also certain that more than one other lonely boy must have spent a lot of time secretly looking at Toby in the library and dreaming of gathering up enough courage to go to him and say 'Hello, I’m here. I think we are the same. Would you like us to find out about it together?'

— “You’re not on your own now,” he said simply. 

— “Neither are you,” Toby replied, his voice fervent and grateful and with just an edge of _‘I know I’ve failed you in the past, but I can do better, please trust me’_ that Adil wished wasn’t there anymore. 

— “I know,” he assured, looking Toby right in the eyes. 

They embraced, gently rocking in each other arms for a while. 

— “What do you want to do?” Toby murmured finally. “You must be exhausted…We can cuddle on the bed if you want…”

Adil smiled. 

— “Well, that’s tempting…”

— “Yes?”

— “Yes…but do you know what’s even more tempting?”

Toby grinned too, guessing where Adil was going. 

— “What’s that?” He asked, playing along. 

Adil just grabbed his lapels and kissed him. 

They undressed each other with practised care, making sure to keep Adil’s uniform pristine and unwrinkled. Adil lay on the bed and Toby climbed on top of him, straddling his legs. 

Toby stared down at his lover’s body hungrily. Adil’s naked form was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. And he had seen it multiple times now. It was still as breath-taking as ever. Toby often wondered how he of all people could have the privilege of having such a splendid man in his bed, and be allowed to look at him and touch him like this. 

— “God, you’re so gorgeous,” he exhaled. 

— “As if you can talk,” Adil murmured, gazing back at him with an admiration Toby felt quite sure he didn’t deserve. 

They traded soft caresses and light kisses for a while, just enjoying the intimacy. They did not often have time to go all the way, and each time was a risky bet. 

Adil wrapped his arms around Toby’s midsection and lifted his hips up, bringing their cocks into contact and making them both shiver and gasp. He tried to rub himself against Toby’s hardness, but Toby stopped him by pressing a hand on his chest and trapping his legs between his own to get him to lay flat on the mattress again. 

Adil whimpered in protest. 

— “Don’t worry, I’m going to take care of you,” Toby murmured, running his hands along Adil’s collarbones.

His caramel skin felt like satin under his fingers. Toby wondered how people could be stupid enough to think that white was the most beautiful of all carnations. 

He started fervently mapping Adil’s muscled torso with his tongue, kissed his navel, then went down to his crotch and slowly took his cock in his mouth. Adil moaned loudly and immediately pressed a hand over his lips to muffle the sound, making Toby wish, not for the first time, that his lover wouldn’t have to restrain himself like that. He dreamed of making love to Adil in a secret place far away from everything, where they could both whimper and scream and shout each other’s names at the top of their voices if they so pleased, and where he would be able to hear the full extent of all the wonderful sounds Adil could make when taking his pleasure. 

This aspect of their relationship had taken a long time to recover too. They had rushed it at first, hoping in their desperation that physical intimacy would help them get back what they had lost, bridge the painful gap their words didn’t seem to fill in. It had been a mistake, obviously. None of them was fully into it, and both were too focused on making sure they weren’t doing anything wrong, not making things worse, not hurting the other in new insidious ways. There was no room for real pleasure, no room for true communion. They were left frustrated and even more doubtful than before. Luckily, they had had the common sense to confess how they felt, and decided not to do it again before things had been properly fixed between them, if they could be. It had taken lots and lots of communication, and lots and lots of self-esteem issues had been explored on both sides. Then, and only then, they had tried again, step by step, slowly rediscovering each other’s body, until they were in tune again, and vibrating more intensely and harmoniously than ever. 

— “Toby…”Adil moaned. “Toby…p…please stop…I won’t last long if you keep doing that…”

Toby released him with a last playful lick and a devilish grin. He knew he was getting quite good at that…at least that’s what he had gathered from Adil’s reactions whenever his mouth was involved. 

— “What would you like me to do, then?” He asked teasingly. 

— “I want you inside me,” Adil whispered. 

Toby peppered kisses on his inner thighs and reached into the nightstand drawer for the little vial of oil they used, carefully coating his fingers and cock.

He opened him up slowly, enjoying every step of the process, until Adil was trembling with need beneath him.

— “Toby…please…”

They had been together for almost a year, and yet Toby couldn’t stop marvelling at Adil’s desire for him, the sheer want he could read on his beautiful face, usually so calm and controlled. 

He gently eased his way inside his lover’s body and moaned. It felt so good!

Adil sighed in contentment, wrapped his legs around him, and they started moving together, slowly at first, then faster, sharing deep open-mouthed kisses, clinging to each other, locked up in a feverish embrace.

Toby did his best to hit Adil’s sweet spot with each thrust, loving to see the pure bliss on his face whenever he succeeded, loving the way he was meeting him halfway each time, wanting to get more of it, more of him. His eyes were closed, and he was just moving on instinct, not trying to control anything. With Toby in charge, he could let go completely, and Toby knew how much he needed that right now. He was more than happy to oblige. 

His own sensations were so heavenly it was hard not to get completely lost in them. He could feel himself getting close, but he wanted to make Adil come first.  
He reached for his cock and started stroking him in time with his thrusts, smearing the pre-come over the tip with his thumb, before pushing deeper inside him with a twist of his hips at just the right angle, aiming for that spot again with more force. 

Adil came with his name on his lips, his body tightening deliciously around Toby who followed suit, muffling his cry of pleasure in the crook of Adil’s neck. 

— “God,” he moaned, still in a half-daze. “Adil, you feel so wonderful!”

— “So do you,” Adil replied, slurring slightly. 

It seemed like Toby had done a good job getting him to relax. 

Toby slipped out of him carefully and they lay there still entangled, just basking in the afterglow for a while, before Toby reluctantly stood up and went to the bathroom, coming back with a wet towel to clean them up a bit. 

As soon as it was done, Toby lay back on the bed and moved to rest his head on Adil’s chest. He liked to hear his heartbeat, to feel him breathing in and out. It was a habit he had taken after _that night_ , to reassure himself that Adil was there, alive and safe by his side. He had had terrible nightmares for a long time, where he didn’t get to Adil’s room in time and found him lying there, limp and cold and lifeless. He had never talked about them. It didn’t seem right. He knew Adil also had nightmares, the depth and darkness of which he couldn’t even fathom. Toby couldn’t add to his burden by making him carry his own. The nightmares had stopped eventually, but he couldn’t quite shake off the habit. It grounded him. 

— “I love you,” he said. 

He never tired of saying it now, after refraining from it for so long – and it still hurt like hell to remember the first time he had actually said it…but he didn’t want to think about that anymore. 

He felt Adil’s heartbeat quicken in response. 

— “I love you too,” he replied softly, slipping a tender hand in Toby’s tousled hair. 

As far as Toby was concerned, this would never get old.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it ! Comments and kudos are life ! <3


	5. Chapter 5

The books arrived, and with them a short letter that Toby read and answered with unexpected joy. To his surprise and delight, he also found out that each book contained a little note with some comments on the contents and questions about his thoughts on this or that passage for when he would have finished reading. He was touched that Alistair was actually interested in his opinion, and had taken the time to personalize the parcel like this.

He perused his own bookshelves in the hope that he could find something to send him in exchange. He selected a few volumes, doubting that Alistair would really care – the man probably had the most comprehensive personal library at his disposal, in addition to the Oxford collections ‒ but not wanting this to be a one-way thing. Sending any of his books away felt like parting with a friend, and Toby felt a little twinge of regret in his heart as he wrapped them up in silk paper and put them in the box. He hoped they would not be damaged on the way, or worse, get lost. At least, he knew Alistair would take good care of them once he would have received them. Booklovers had that in common. 

He himself respectfully placed the new books on his nightstand, contemplating them with a thrill of joy. 

He then looked wistfully had the empty places on his shelves and sighed. Well, one couldn’t have his cake and eat it, he supposed. 

Another letter from Alistair came around a week afterwards, reassuring him that the delivery had been successful, and that his precious books were, in Alistair’s words, “alive and well and welcomed with all due respect, with no danger of getting dog-eared” which made him smile wide. 

The correspondence became regular after that, each letter a little longer than the previous one. They shared thoughts about books, asked whether the other knew about this or that work, and Toby once found enclosed in the envelope a rather wrinkled manuscript copy of what seemed to be a student’s assignment, with the following note: “I’ve finally found my essay on the use of encrypted texts by the Elizabethan secret services, here enclosed, if you’re still interested. Please forgive the God-awful style of an over-enthusiastic nineteen-year-old. I have hopefully improved since – or not. I’m confident it will give you a good laugh if nothing else.”

Toby laughed at the note, but not at the paper, which he found fascinating, and more touching than risible in the obvious eagerness of its author. He wished he had met Alistair sooner, when they were both students. But Alistair was three years older than him, from what he had gathered, and he would probably not have noticed him at all at the time. He probably had lots of friends and admirers following him around then. He certainly still did, thinking about it. Toby wondered how a man like that could be bothered to give him the time of day. He was not going to complain, though. This was the closest he had ever come to developing a friendship with one of his peers, and he didn’t want to let it go. 

From letter to letter, they had also started talking about themselves, and sharing reflexions and feelings that went beyond the purely academic sphere. Alistair often recounted some anecdotes about Oxford and the people who dwelled on the university grounds, embellishing his narration with a touch of ironical humour that made Toby snort, but also with an underlying tenderness and self-derision that made it clear his satires where never intended to mock or ridicule anyone in a hurtful manner. Toby appreciated that, having been scoffed at more than enough in his life to know how profoundly humiliating it was. They also shared their fears and hopes in the future, and the heartfelt way in which Alistair expressed his disgust for the Nazis and their ideology struck a chord in Toby. Unlike many of their contemporaries, Alistair wasn’t anti-German. He lamented the fact that such a rich culture and heritage could be poisoned and tainted by fascism. Like Toby, he didn’t have a belligerent temper and only wished for peace, but peace with Herr Hitler and his cohorts was out of the question. Nazism was a disgrace to Humanity and had to be eradicated at all costs. Toby wondered what Alistair would say if he knew of the late Lord Hamilton’s opinions. He felt shame tying knots in his stomach at the thought, turning downright painful whenever he reflected on what he had done himself under the threats of d’Abberville. He knew rationally that the two things were not comparable, but the burning guilt was rekindled each time. 

Luckily, most of the letters did not elicit such negative feelings in him. On the contrary, they were a new source of joy and solace in his life. He felt understood and valorised in a way he had rarely experienced, except with Adil of course, but on a completely different level. Adil saw all of him, held his whole heart and soul in his hands; his appearance in Toby’s life had been an epiphany, a eucatastrophe that nothing could ever compare with. His epistolary relationship with Alistair was an essentially intellectual connection, but one such as he had dreamed of for his entire academic life, which had been for a very long time the only kind of life he had.  
With Freddie back at his base and on active service, it was also a welcome reprieve to not only wait in dread for the mail to bring some terrible news from his brother. So far, everything seemed to be going fine for Freddie, but Toby’s heart rate increased and his breathe sped up sometimes to the point of feeling faint every time an official-looking letter arrived. Finding one from Alistair, with or without the addition of a crate full of books, helped him calm down when Adil wasn’t around. He wished his mother and Emma had the same advantage. 

So far, Alistair had not mentioned any plans to visit. Toby assumed he was very busy with his work, and didn’t think anything more of it. He was perfectly content with the epistolary nature of their relationship, however pleasant their last real-life encounter had been. 

He was thus very surprised when he came downstairs one Sunday afternoon and saw an elegant man with black hair and spectacles waiting on one of the seats in the lounge. 

— “Alistair!” Toby exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

— “I had to come to London on business, and I thought I would drop by”, Alistair answered, getting up from his seat with a bright smile.

— “Well it’s really nice to see you,” Toby said sincerely. “But I’m sorry, Freddie is not there currently…”

Alistair’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

— “Actually, it’s you I was hoping to see,” he replied. 

— “Me?” Toby repeated. “Oh…yes, of course!”

He had been the one exchanging letters and books with Alistair for about two months, not Freddie. There was nothing odd in the fact that Alistair wanted to see him and not his brother. Toby supposed old habits did die hard. 

— “Unless you’re busy, of course!” Alistair said, looking suddenly embarrassed. “I apologize, I should have phoned you beforehand…”

— “No, no, it’s fine!” Toby replied hurriedly. 

It would be just like him to make Alistair feel unwelcomed! 

— “Are you sure?” Alistair insisted. “I really do not wish to interfere with any plans…”

— “I’m sure,” Toby assured. “It’s really nice of you to come by.” A sudden thought crossed his mind, making him smile. “Oh, and I can give you your last books back. I’ve read them.” 

— “All of them? Already?” 

— “Yes,” Toby confessed, blushing slightly. 

— “Jesus Christ, and I thought I was a fast reader!” Alistair commented, looking amazed. 

— “They were all very interesting,” Toby replied, almost apologetically. “But I’m being a terrible host, would you like something to drink? We can stay in the lounge or sit at the counter…”

— “Actually I was wondering if you’d like to have a drink with me in town? I promise you there’ll be no dancing involved. Or staring at strangers,” Alistair said in a joking tone. 

Toby laughed. 

— “Well, I…” he said, discreetly glancing at Adil at the bar. 

His lover gave him a near undiscernible nod of approval. 

— “Yes,” Toby said, focusing back on Alistair who was looking at him expectantly. “Yes, with pleasure”. 

— “Wonderful,” Alistair replied with another radiant smile. 

***

Adil watched them leave with a painful twist of envy in his heart. 

He would never get to invite Toby out. 

This was a painful reality he thought he would have come to terms with by now, but quite evidently had not. 

And the fact that St-John was much more attractive than Adil expected him to be didn’t help. Somehow, Toby had never thought of mentioning it to him. But then again, why would he? Why would he care to inform Adil that his new friend and penpal happened to be tall and good-looking in addition to being a rich and well-read aristocrat? 

And he had made Toby laugh. 

He had been there for barely ten minutes, and he had already made him laugh. 

Adil was surprised by the visceral intensity of his own reaction. He already knew St-John had a sense of humour and that Toby was partial to it: he frequently saw his lover smile or chuckle as he perused the man’s letters at the breakfast table or at the bar, and Toby had even read some passages aloud to him. And yet somehow, seeing it happen for real gave it even more impact. 

The correspondence had taken an important place in Toby’s life in a short amount of time, and Adil had had to adapt to the change it brought into their routine. He had had to accept that Toby’s eyes didn’t drift towards him as often as before at the bar, because he was focused on reading his latest missive. He had had to accept that more of Toby’s free time was dedicated to reading St-John’s books and answering his letters. He had had to accept the fact that part of their conversations now revolved around Toby’s friendship with St-John, and what St-John said about this and that. The change was small, almost unnoticeable. Toby was just as loving and affectionate as ever, just as eager to make the most of their time together, just as willing to listen to him talk about whatever crossed his mind, good or bad, and answer him with words of comfort, understanding, interest or enthusiasm. Adil really had nothing to complain about. And Toby looked happier than ever. He had a spring in his step, and his whole demeanour seemed brighter. Everyone had noticed it, and Lady Hamilton had enquired about this new correspondent, before asking in a rather shrill voice whether this St-John boy had a sister of a suitable age, but not even that had seemed to dampen Toby’s enthusiasm. How could Adil not rejoice as well? Toby’s happiness meant the world to him, and whether or not he was the one making him feel like this shouldn’t matter. 

Adil knew how much this new blossoming friendship meant to Toby, and he was not going to ruin it with stupid fits of jealousy. It would be monstrously selfish and beneath him. It wasn’t Toby’s fault that Adil didn’t have friends outside of work, it wasn’t Toby’s fault that he always refused Betsey and Sonny’s invitations to go out on their time off. Adil knew that depending so much on Toby for his own happiness was unhealthy. He knew from experience that it was a recipe for disaster. He knew that he could not expect to be the centre of Toby’s world. And he knew, rationally, that he had no reason to be jealous of St-John, handsome or not. Toby and he were just friends. The man most probably had no idea of Toby’s inclination towards men and didn’t share it – although their interaction had been too short for Adil to form any definitive opinion about that. And Toby loved Adil. He proved it to him over and over, with his looks, his words, his actions, his desire for him. 

Yes, rationally, Adil knew all that. 

But the green-eyed monster’s thrall didn’t leave much room for rationality. 

***

As soon as he was in the street walking beside Alistair, Toby wanted nothing more than to be back at the Halcyon bar with Adil. He felt completely out of his depth, wondering what on earth he was supposed to do and say. He didn’t have the protection and distance of writing to help him properly organise his thoughts. He tried to calm down by reminding himself that their first meeting had gone well, that he had felt at ease around Alistair and that there was no reason for it to be any different this time. 

— “Do you have a preference?” Alistair asked. “You probably know of many pleasant establishments.” 

— “Not…not really,” Toby stammered. “I…I don’t go out often.”

— “Alright, then you’ll have to trust me on this,” Alistair replied lightly, not seeming to dwell on Toby’s answer. 

The café they ended up in was surprisingly small but cosy, with dark wood panels and comfortable velvet-draped seats that gave it a warm atmosphere. It reminded Toby a bit of an old library. He could feel himself relax almost instantly. 

— “Do you like it?” Alistair asked. 

— “Yes,” Toby replied with a delighted smile. “It’s perfect! Do you come here often?”

—“Quite often, yes, whenever I’m in London. This is my personal spot. I do have a few other places I go to, but I thought this one would be more to your taste,” Alistair answered. 

A member of staff came to welcome them and take them to a table. It was nicely secluded and they were isolated from other customers by a big potted plant, which Toby also appreciated. 

— “May I ask you a question?” Alistair said once they were seated and had ordered their drinks. 

— “Sure,” Toby answered, although he could feel his alarms rise up again. 

— “When you say that you don’t go out often, is it because you don’t enjoy it and would rather stay home, or for the same kind of reasons why you didn’t want to dance when we last met?”

So much for Alistair not dwelling on his previous answer. The man was definitely perceptive. 

— “It’s a bit of both actually,” Toby said hesitantly. “I like to stay in with a book more than anything…”

He interrupted himself. It used to be true, but now, it wasn’t. What he liked more than anything was spending time with Adil in his room, and having him in his arms, whether they were cuddling fully clothed or enjoying other activities. Of course, he couldn’t tell Alistair that. And staying in with a book did come second anyway.  
He resumed talking, opting for frankness: 

— “But the reason I rarely go out, it’s because…Well because I don’t…I don’t feel very confident with this kind of social activities.”

— “May I ask why?” 

Alistair’s voice was soft and he was looking at him with earnest interest. It reminded Toby of the way Adil used to look at him before they got together, when Toby opened himself up to him at the bar after one too many drinks. He did have this look now, too, but mixed with overt tenderness and love he didn’t need to hide anymore. Toby treasured that look. 

Maybe it was the resemblance that made him let his guard down. Or maybe it was just Alistair’s effect on him, the one he had felt the first time they had met, like he could tell him everything without fearing judgement.

— “I’ve been frequently told that since I never had anything of interest or significance to say and didn’t know how to behave properly, I had better not disgrace myself and my family’s good name by making a fool of myself in a public place,” he recited, eyes down.

Alistair gasped.

— “I’m sorry, but whoever told you this is a bloody fool!” he exclaimed. 

Toby burst out laughing nervously. 

— “What? What did I say?” Alistair asked, surprised. 

— “Nothing…”Toby hiccoughed. “Nothing, It’s just…it was my father.”

— “I beg your pardon?” 

— “It was my father…the ‘bloody fool’.” 

Alistair’s mouth opened in shock.

— “Oh my…” he stammered. “Toby, I’m sorry…I had no idea…I really shouldn’t have said that…I meant no disrespect…”

— “No, please, don’t apologize! It…feels really good to hear that, actually.” 

— “Oh…well, in that case, I’m not sorry at all,” Alistair said. 

There was an awkward pause, or at least Toby perceived it as awkward. He couldn’t believe he had just told Alistair that he was glad to hear him call his late father a bloody fool. His cheeks felt hot. 

— “I guess pleasing a father can be hard,” Alistair said tactfully. “I am truly sorry to know that yours failed to see his son’s qualities.” 

— “It’s not as though he was the only one,” Toby mumbled. “Invitations to go out have not exactly been numerous so far.”

He wanted to kick himself as soon as the words were out of his mouth. What was he doing inviting Alistair to his pity party? How appealing was that! And how ungrateful for Alistair who had actually asked him to go out and would now feel like he was a last resort. He probably already regretted his offer. 

— “I apologize,” Toby stammered. “I didn’t mean…I shouldn’t have said that. Any of that. You see that my father was right, I’m rambling already…I’m sorry for being such poor company!”

Alistair raised a hand to stop him. 

— “It’s my turn to tell you not to apologize. I’ve asked you a very personal question and you’ve had the honesty to answer me sincerely. I don’t see how I could blame you for that. As for being poor company, we’ve just arrived and I’ve had nothing to complain about so far.”

— “It’s very kind of you to say,” Toby replied.

Alistair bit his lip, looking at him thoughtfully before he resumed talking: 

— “Toby…I don’t know you well, and you’ll probably think it very forward of me to talk to you like this, but I hope you’ll forgive me. At our first meeting, you told me you felt like the ugly duckling when it came to dancing, so allow me to go on with the analogy. In the tale, the ugly duckling has been told so often that he’s inadequate and unwanted…that he doesn’t even realize he’s become a beautiful swan. It isn’t until he finds a pond with other swans swimming on it, and is welcomed and admired, that he finally feels he belongs. So what I’m saying is…maybe you just haven’t found the right pond yet?” 

There was something in Alistair’s eyes, in his voice, that Toby did not comprehend. It was like hope, or expectation, as though he was trying to tell Toby something that went beyond his words. 

Toby thought about the one graceful swan in his life who kept telling him that he was one too; the beautiful prince in commoner’s clothes who kept kissing the ugly toad because he was seeing another prince in it. He felt his heart swell with love.

— “I think I’ve heard something like that before,” he said, trying to hide his soft smile. 

— “Then you should believe it, Toby,” Alistair replied. “You really should.”

Toby didn’t know what to say. 

The deep blue stare was on him again, and thinking about Adil had sent his emotions all over the place. 

— “Thank you,” he croaked, for lack of a better answer. 

— “You’re very welcome”, Alistair answered softly. 

Toby dropped his gaze and started fidgeting with the placemat to hide the blush creeping up his face. 

— “Your turn,” Alistair said after a moment of silence. “You can ask me a personal question, any of your choosing. It’s only fair.” 

Toby looked up at him again, caught unprepared. He had no idea what to ask, and personal questions were a dangerous terrain he didn’t feel safe exploring. This could backfire on him quickly. 

He settled on something he hoped with all his might was relatively innocuous. 

— “What is this business you have in London?” 

Alistair seemed a little surprised – and slightly disappointed, but that was probably just Toby’s imagination – but he made no remark and smiled before answering:

— “Oh, well, that’s not a secret. You remember I told you I planned to take up medical training?”

— “Yes,” Toby replied, relieved.

— “Well I have decided to see this project through. And as I will be more useful here than in Oxford, I’m going to settle in London for at least a few months. I came to make some arrangements to this end.” 

— “But…what about your research?” Toby exclaimed, surprised. 

Alistair chuckled. 

— “I appreciate your concern about my work, but I doubt it’s important enough to be taken into account. Didn’t you leave your own research behind to apply for your current job? 

Toby felt grateful that Alistair had had the presence of mind no to mention the War Office. They were in a public place after all, and anyone could overhear their conversation. 

— “I did,” he admitted. “But I wasn’t even sure I would be accepted.”

He wondered what would have occurred had they rejected his application. None of the d’Abberville mess would have happened. But he probably would have gone back to Oxford after a while. And maybe nothing would have happened with Adil at all...

— “With your credentials, I don’t see how they could have refused to hire you,” Alistair replied, snapping him out of his thoughts. “But I see what you mean. And I sincerely hope the Auxiliary service will not doubt my capacity to carry a stretcher…or at least learn how to do an injection and tie a tourniquet.”

He had said that in a joking tone, but Toby thought he could discern a touch of real concern underneath. Maybe Alistair’s perceived shortcomings were taking more of a toll on his self-esteem than he let show. 

— “You should talk with Emma…Emma Garland, she's the assistant manager at the Halcyon. She's in the WVS,” Toby said, the thought suddenly crossing his mind. “She can certainly give you some valuable information!”

— “Oh, really? That would be most appreciable, indeed.”

— “Then I’ll arrange it,” Toby promised, glad he could be useful and find a way, however small, to repay Alistair for his kindness. “Maybe I can introduce you tonight, when we’re back at the hotel.”

— “Thank you,” Alistair answered, smiling. “That’s very nice of you.”

— “You’re welcome,” Toby said. 

Music started playing, which Toby realized came from the old piano in the room, where a man in a dark suit had just sat. 

— “The pianist here is quite good, I find,” Alistair commented. “But so is the Halcyon’s pianist…What’s his name?” 

— “Sonny Sullivan,” Toby answered. 

— “I appreciated his performance last time. He and his band seem very talented, and so does the singer. When did you hire them?” 

— “I believe it was around three years ago,” Toby said, relieved that Alistair had not added any mention of Sonny’s skin colour or Betsey’s looks. “So you like swing, even though you don’t dance much?”

— “I do, yes. I find it very pleasant to hear and watch. Although I must admit I’m still a bit partial to classical music, when it comes to piano pieces. That’s very old-fashioned, I know.”

— “No, I understand,” Toby said. “I love classical pieces too. The scores…they’re so complex and precise, like mathematical formulas...there is no room for improvisation at all, it is like a perfect geared mechanism…but at the same time, they can make you feel so many different emotions...nostalgia, melancholy, passion, joy…you can become completely immersed in them…as if you were in a trance.”

— “That’s a very beautiful way to describe it,” Alistair commented with a soft smile. “Do you play?” 

— “No, I don’t. My…my father thought it unseemly for a boy. I wish I could, though…Do you?” 

Alistair seemed to want to say something, and from the expression on his face when Toby had mentioned his father, he thought he had a good idea what sort of remark it would be. He shot the man a pleading glance he hoped would be enough to stop him. It worked. Alistair sighed and answered: 

— “Yes, I do. Not that well, though. My sister was the real musician in our family.” 

— “Oh,” Toby reacted, surprised. “I didn’t know you had a sister?”

Alistair had never mentioned her before. He only ever talked about his two brothers, and only briefly. 

Toby thought of his mother and what she would do with this new piece of information and shuddered. He sincerely hoped that the sister in question was already married – or at least engaged. 

— “Helena passed away when she was fifteen,” Alistair replied. “She had a heart condition. It runs in the family, but she had it much worse.”

—“Oh, I…I’m terribly sorry!” Toby said, eyes growing wide. Only then did he realize that Alistair’s use of the past tense should have been enough of a clue. He was appalled. 

Toby could not imagine a world without Freddie in it. Even when their relationship had been at its worse, he knew he would have been devastated by his death. 

— “Thank you,” Alistair answered softly. “I appreciate it. It was nine years ago, but I still think about her almost every day. Especially whenever I play.” 

— “Nine years ago? So you were…”

— “I was sixteen. Helena and I were very close, so…yes, it was hard. But I like to think she’s still around, in a way, as a benevolent spirit. I’m not very religious, but this is a real comfort.”

— “I can imagine,” Toby breathed. 

He could feel a lump in his throat and didn’t know whether he should say something to change the subject or not. He really wished he was less sensitive and more socially savvy.

Alistair probably guessed it, because his next words provided the answer Toby needed. 

— “Please don’t feel like we have to be all serious and sad now that we’ve talked about her. That’s exactly the opposite of what Helena would have wanted. And I don’t want it either. Talking about her shouldn’t be sad. Let’s discuss something that makes us happy. 

— “As you wish,” Toby replied. “We can talk about whatever you want!” 

Alistair smiled. 

— “Well, what about these last books? Please tell me everything! I want to know your thoughts, good or bad.” 

Toby smiled wide in return. This, he could definitely do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're still enjoying this story ! :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone ! 
> 
> I'm so sorry this took so long to update. I've been busy with work and proof-reading for my novel. But I'm very glad to be able to post on this story again (and now that it's done I'll be able to read Princess-of-Troy's new chapter and Lucy-Ferrier's new oneshot which I was saving for after I had finished writing Chapter 6 ! Hooray ! :D)
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy this chapter.

Adil had always been good at watching people. He had always had a quiet and observant nature, even as a child; but with time and experience, he had turned it into a real advantage. For a young homosexual man with brown skin, alone in a huge capital city, and of short means, being attentive to other people’s moods and discreetly watching their moves could be a life saver. Literally. It could save you from getting robbed or beaten; it could help you find and keep a job or a roof over your head; and it could help you find places where men like you were willing to share some body heat and fumbling, starved caresses that could bring you some long-awaited and quickly reached pleasure, if nothing else. If you were lucky, you could even get some genuine company and affection, however ephemeral.  
Of course, it had also helped him tremendously in his job as a bartender. It ranged from just noticing when a guest had definitely had too much to drink and should be diplomatically incited to slow it down (or not so diplomatically, as Adil had learned from working in much shadier establishments than the Halcyon), to developing his trademark ability to craft complex cocktails that were somehow exactly what the patron wanted. 

Yes, Adil was definitely good at watching people. 

But he had never watched anything or anyone with as much passionate interest as he did Toby. 

It was already true on a day-to-day basis, but right now, Adil’s watchfulness was exacerbated by St-John’s presence at his lover’s side. When they had come back to the Halcyon earlier, Adil had hoped that Toby was just going to go straight to his room, gather St-John’s books and give them to him before saying goodbye. He had hoped the man would soon be on his way and would leave him free to enjoy the remainder of the evening with Toby as they usually did. But he had been cruelly disappointed. Toby had started by introducing St-John to Miss Garland, and that had led to a rather lengthy conversation – at least Adil had thought that it was lengthy, although it was not very plausible, since Miss Garland had other duties to attend to. Then, the two men had gone back to the bar area and sat down, and Adil had understood St-John was not going anywhere for at least a few more hours. So much for having Toby all to himself. Of course, he didn’t really have him all to himself during service. Technically, there were lots of people around, and most of the time, Toby was sitting by Mr O’Hara at the counter. But Mr O’Hara wasn’t like St-John. He was equally content with talking to Toby or just nursing his glass alongside him in companionable silence, which gave Toby all the time in the world to trade knowing glances with Adil and brush fingers with him at every opportunity. Their silent conversation was one of the ups and treats of Adil’s day, however frustrating it was. They had become quite good at communicating a lot without words, or with words that seemed completely innocent but held a secret meaning that was very close to their heart…or sometimes daring enough to make their blood boil. 

There was no silent conversation now. Not even silent glances. Adil could hear Toby’s voice – hear it much more than usual in public, in fact – and he could guess from his tone how engrossed he was in his exchange with his guest. 

“One ‘Sazerac’ coming right away, Sir.”

 _Mix. Pour. Smile._

Toby was glowing. He was talking animatedly, his fingers moving through the air in synch with his words. He stopped and listened intently to St-John’s reply, completely focused on the other man. 

“Good evening, Ma’am. What can I get you?”

St-John said something and Toby started laughing again, bright and clear, his whole face illuminated. 

Adil felt awful for being jealous of it, for wanting this laugh to be just for him, and him alone. Toby had the right to be happy and at ease around other people. Toby _should_ be happy and at ease around other people. But Adil couldn’t help wishing the person he was currently happy and at ease with wasn’t a young and handsome white aristocrat who was obviously interested in him in a more-than-friendly way. 

Whatever doubts Adil may have had about that earlier had quickly vanished. 

The way St-John was looking at Toby, the way he was leaning over discreetly in his chair to be a bit closer to him, the utterly smitten expression on his face whenever Toby smiled that gorgeous toothy grin of his, told Adil everything he needed to know. He knew exactly how the man felt. He had been there. How Toby himself could not see it was beyond him. In fact, if Toby had not been Toby, Adil would have suspected that he did see it, did notice St-John’s infatuation, and that he enjoyed it and even revelled in it. But Toby being Toby, Adil knew nothing could be furthest from the truth. What Toby enjoyed and revelled in was the attention and kinship if was so often deprived of. He was too happy and amazed to be deemed worthy of interest to suspect anything beyond that. It made Adil’s heart ache, knowing that Toby was so used to waiting for scraps that he did not even realize he deserved the whole meal and more. He should have been grateful to St-John for giving this to Toby, for seeing past his shyness and awkward demeanour, just as he felt grateful to Mr O’Hara. And yet somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to. Something in his guts, in his primal instinct, was screaming danger. Not the same kind of danger as with d’Abberville. Something much more insidious, and strictly threatening to him on a personal level. 

Adil thought back to when he was worried the mysterious guest was a woman. How ironic! He would have preferred half a dozen well-bred young ladies drooling all over Toby and desperately trying to make him commit to them, knowing that Toby would never actually be interested in any of them romantically, over this. 

He was caught by surprise when St-John stood up to make his way to the counter, with a smiling Toby on his trail. 

Adil was nothing if not an expert on how to bottle up his feelings and keep a straight face even when a tempest was raging inside him. He greeted the men with all the required politeness. He had to admit that St-John’s reply was equally civil. Adil sort of wished it was not the case. A rude snob would be so much easier to despise. _But if he were a rude snob, Toby wouldn’t enjoy his company_ , a little voice in his head told him. He stifled it to focus on what the man was saying: 

— “Mr Hamilton tells me you are the best cocktail maker in town. He says you have an extraordinary gift for creating drinks that reflect the client’s personality or mood.” 

— “Mr Hamilton is too kind,” Adil replied rather acidly. 

He was already on edge, and his pride was hurt by what he felt was an attempt at making him perform tricks like some trained monkey. But when his eyes met Toby’s, he was ashamed of himself for thinking that. Toby’s expressive hazel irises didn’t reflect anything but love and pride. He only wanted to show him off and give him an opportunity to shine. Because he knew Adil put time and efforts in his trade and valued it, even though it was just bartending. 

— “I would say he is very confident in the capacities of his staff,” St-John replied in a joking tone.

— “It’s…it’s not really my staff,” Toby retorted, embarrassed. “My brother owns the hotel, not me!” 

Adil knew Toby didn’t like being reminded of the superiority of his position over his, and the inherent power of domination it gave him. He was still ashamed of having played on it to push Adil away all those months ago, calling him a “cocktail waiter” in this scornful manner and ordering him to reverse back to calling him Mr Hamilton. Adil knew now that he had been consciously pressing where it hurt, not because he believed what he was saying, but because he wanted to make sure Adil would not be around when he called the police. And if he had been so heart-wrenchingly convincing, it was because he himself was hurting so bad that part of him did want to retaliate, did want to make Adil suffer. And Gods, did he succeed! Adil had forgiven him for that as for all the rest. They had officially put this behind them. But the hard social truth at the bottom of it all was not easy to escape. Whether he wanted it or not, Toby would always be seen as Adil’s superior in all senses of the word. 

— “I see,” St-John said, without further comment. “Well, I would very much like you to create such a drink for me, Mr Joshi, if you would be so kind as to satisfy my curiosity?” 

He was looking at Adil expectantly, as though he really thought the bartender was in a position to refuse. Toby was still looking at him too, eyes full of trust. Even if he had had the choice to say no, Adil would never have had the heart to disappoint him. 

Better give it his best shot then. He looked intently at St-John, trying to be as impartial as he could. He focused on the very things he felt were so dangerously alluring about him. After a moment of reflexion, he started gathering the liquors and products he needed and put them in the shaker one by one. He knew what he wanted the drink to be: something elegant and classy, but also quite complex, with a surprising touch of acidity and a long finish that let unexpected aromas develop to their fullest expression. 

Without saying a word, he poured the mixed drink into a glass and placed it in front of St-John.

The man took a sip and blinked. He took another, eyebrows rising in surprise. 

— “So?” Toby asked expectantly. “What do you think?” 

— “Well, that’s…very impressive,” St-John said. “Not to mention remarkably tasty. You seem to have figured me out quite well, Mr Joshi.” 

— “I told you so,” Toby exclaimed with a tad more enthusiasm and pride that Adil deemed prudent. “He really is the most talented at his job!” 

St-John’s piercing blue eyes went from him to Adil and back to Toby. Adil felt a shiver run down his spine. Only then did he remember that according to Toby, St-John was very good at watching people too. 

— “He certainly is,” the man said, staring right at him again. 

Adil escaped his inquisitive look by turning to Toby and asking in his most bartender-like voice:

— “Would you like anything to drink to accompany your friend, Mr Hamilton?” 

— “Yes, the usual, please,” Toby answered with this secret warmth in his voice that Adil knew was just for him. He was apparently oblivious to what was occurring between the other two. 

Adil prepared Toby’s drink, but took care to avoid touching his fingers when he placed it in front of him. Toby looked slightly disconcerted at first, then apparently dismissed the incident as either chance or extra caution on Adil’s part. 

— “Would you mind if we got back to our seats?” St-John asked lightly. 

— “Oh,” Toby said. “Of course, if you prefer…”

He shot a regretful look at Adil, who pretended not to see it; luckily, his attention was called by another client just at that moment. When he was free to look back in Toby and St-John’s direction, he saw that they had indeed gone back to their previous seats and resumed their conversation as though nothing had happened – and nothing had, except in Adil’s imagination. At least he hoped so. 

St-John finally stood up to take his leave, and he and Toby left the bar area, disappearing from Adil’s field of vision. The barman couldn’t tell if it was better or worse. He imagined Toby going up to his room, coming back with a box full of books and giving it to St-John. He wondered what parting words they were saying to each other. 

When Toby came back to the bar, Adil’s shift was almost over. Toby marched straight towards the counter and asked Adil to bring him up a tray of coffee when he would be done downstairs. He threw him a knowing glance and retreated again, this time for good.

Adil almost had a mind not to go up to Toby’s room. He knew his lover would want to talk about St-John, probably ask his opinion about his new friend, and Adil didn’t have the heart to lie, nor to tell him how he really felt. But what pretext could he give not to go? Toby would think he had done something wrong, which was absolutely not true. Or he would think Adil was unwell, or had another fit of depression, which would make him worry, and it wouldn’t be fair. Avoiding Toby because he was insecure enough to feel jealous of his friend was ridiculous and pathetic. Besides, it would not make the problem go away. 

So, when he was finished with his work, he took the familiar steps that led him to this room where he had lived some of the best and worst moments of his life.  
Once he was in Toby’s presence, he wished he could forget all about his worries and just bask in his lover’s tenderness as usual. But the St-John-shaped elephant in the room could not be ignored. 

— “So?” Toby excitedly asked, grasping his hands. “What do you think of him? I know you haven’t been able to talk to him much, but…what impression did you get of him?” 

—“He…was very polite,” Adil answered. “Just like you had told me he was.”

— “And?” 

— “Well, like you said, I didn’t get to talk to him much, so…”

— “You don’t like him, do you?” Toby said, his smile faltering. 

— “What are you talking about? He seems very nice. Why wouldn’t I like him?” Adil replied lightly. 

— “Come on,” Toby retorted, rolling his eyes. “I know you, Adil. This is the bartender speaking. Tell me what you really think!” 

— “Well he is a very good-looking man,” Adil commented, still keeping his voice neutral. 

— “Yes, he is, isn’t he? Should I be worried?” Toby joked. 

When Adil didn’t answer, his face fell. 

— “Should I?” He repeated, alarmed. 

— “Toby, I think the real question is: should _I_ be worried,” Adil replied, choosing honesty. 

— “What?” Toby exclaimed. “Of course not, silly! I’m not interested in him in this way! We are just friends!” 

— “But you do find him good-looking,” Adil pointed out. 

— “Yes, I do. I would be a hypocrite if I didn’t admit it. He is handsome, but you think he is too, or you wouldn’t have brought that up. It doesn’t change anything. You are still the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on. The only one I’m attracted too. It’s not going to change!” 

— “But he is not only handsome,” Adil continued, sadly. “He is also an aristocrat, and rich, and smart and cultured, and bookish, and fun, and he seems to be a good man…” 

— “Alright, now I am really worried,” Toby said, visibly trying to keep the conversion light. 

— “Toby, I’m serious. He is a perfect match for you. He is everything I’ll never be.” 

— “You are also smart, and fun, and a good man!” Toby protested. 

— “Toby, you’re being obtuse on purpose. I’m not an aristocrat, and I’m not rich, and I’m not cultured and bookish.” 

— “That’s because you have to work and you don’t have time for books. But you like it when I read to you, don’t you?” 

— “Yes,” Adil sighed. “I do. I love it.” 

To be frank, Toby could have read the hotel register to him and he would still have loved to hear his voice. But he did enjoy the novels and poems and some plays and essays his lover often wanted to share with him. The poems, of course, were the best. Toby’s honey-like voice reciting beautiful love verses to him, in the shell of his ear, even though most of these poems had actually be written for women, was an experience Adil wouldn’t have missed for the world. 

— “And as for being cultured, you didn’t go to Oxbridge, sure, but you read as many newspapers as you can, and you know more about the state of the world than most scholars. I know you do. It’s much more important than old non-sense nobody cares about.” 

— “It’s not non-sense,” Adil replied softly. “And you do care about things like that. I know you do.” 

— “But it doesn’t matter. I love you,” Toby said warmly. “And why are we even discussing this? Alistair is not like us, he not interested in men, so why…”

— “Toby, I think he might be,” Adil cut in. 

— “What?” 

— “I think he is. Like us, I mean.” 

Toby looked stunned. 

— “But…but how can you know that? You’ve barely seen him! How did you know about me?” 

Toby had already asked him that before, of course. They had discussed it several times. And yet somehow the question still popped up sometimes, like an unsolvable mystery, as though Adil’s answers were never quite enough. And really, they weren’t. How could he explain that? It was part-instinct, part-observation, part-luck. A huge part of luck actually. Always more than was safe. 

— “I didn’t know for sure,” he replied yet again. “You never know for sure, unless the man comes right up to you and is very forward about what he wants…and even then, it can always be a trick…but Toby, the way he looks at you…”

Toby let out an incredulous sound. 

— “If he really was like us, he’d be looking at you, not me.” 

— “I looked at you,” Adil pointed out. 

— “I still can’t figure out why,” Toby replied.

— “Well, that would be because you’re attractive,” Adil retorted, slightly exasperated. “And I’m not just talking about your looks…there’s something about you, Toby. And I’m certainly not the only one who can notice it. St-John clearly does, too.”

Toby bit his lip, looking thoughtful. 

— “He did look at me strangely the first time we met,” he admitted slowly. “And at that café earlier too…Or at least I thought he did…but I wasn’t sure.” 

— “He is pretty subtle about it,” Adil replied. “But it’s there. He’s clearly interested in you. Trust me!” 

Toby started fidgeting with his signet ring, a sure sign that he was getting nervous. 

— “But what on earth am I going to do, then? What should I tell him? How can I let him know that I’m not interested? I don’t want to hurt his feelings, I…and what if you’re wrong?” 

That made Adil stop and think. Toby had a point: however sure he felt of his conclusions right now, they were still only based on his intuition. And he could very well be mistaken, biased as he was by his instinctive jealousy towards St-John. And even if the man was indeed a homosexual and did find Toby attractive, that didn’t mean he was going to act on it. Adil had found clients and co-workers attractive before, in almost all the places he had worked at. But he certainly would never have risked everything for a passing fancy, even when he thought the signs were there on the other side. Only his deep longing for Toby, who he had admired and loved silently for months, probably even years, had made him take the chances he had. Even if St-John was in a less precarious position than Adil, given his social status, openly making advances on Toby would still be risky. Maybe he really didn’t have any intention to do so. Was he even aware of what he felt? Adil tended to think that he was. St-John was older than Toby, if not by much, and he seemed way more worldly and self-confident. But perhaps that was another reason why he would be extra careful not to betray himself. Men as rich as he was could always find ways to satisfy their urges. Adil was no spring lamb himself, and he knew many poor young men were willing to sell themselves for food or shelter or ready money. He had witnessed things, and been propositioned himself more than once. The memory made him recoil in disgust. He thanked his providence that he had never had to do that to survive. Of course, not all the wealthy men looking for young flesh to buy for a few pounds were as dashing as St-John…

Adil shook himself, ashamed. What was he doing, suspecting the poor man of misconduct when he knew nothing of his private life at all? He had no right to assume that St-John was resorting to prostitution just because he was rich!

— “You’re right,” he said to tranquilize Toby. “I may be wrong. And you have nothing to worry about for now. As long as he doesn’t make a direct move on you, you don’t have to reject him. And you can always pretend you don’t get it if he starts making allusions.” 

— “I’m quite sure I won’t have to pretend,” Toby mumbled. 

He still looked so confused and unsettled that Adil felt guilty. Why did he have to open his mouth and taint something that was so important to Toby and made him so happy? Pushing away his own selfish needs, he tried to repair the damage done by his previous imprudent words: 

— “But Toby…Even if I’m right, it doesn’t make him any less likeable or worthy of friendship," he said. "Please don’t change your behaviour towards him because of what I told you. He is good for you, I can see it. You…” he stopped, not yet ready to voice what was on his mind. _You know you’d probably be better off if you did not reject him_. 

That was really where the issue lied, he knew. That was what was gnawing at Adil’s insides: the idea that if indeed St-John was everything that he seemed to be, he was a much better choice of partner for Toby than he himself was. 

— “Yes…” Toby admitted. “I…I do like him, and I really don’t want things to get awkward between us...Especially since he’s going to settle in London for a while.”

— “Is he?” Adil said, feeling something heavy drop into the pit of his stomach. 

— “Yes…he told me he was going to start a medical training program to help during the air raids…That’s why I introduced him to Emma earlier.” 

Just what Adil needed: adding “altruistic” and “brave” to St-John seemingly endless list of qualities! Not to mention the thrill of life-threatening situations and the prestige of uniform…and not of the waiter kind. 

— “Well that’s…good,” he said courageously. “You’ll be able to see him a lot more!”

— “But…wouldn’t that be encouraging him, if he really is attracted to me?” 

Toby sounded so doubtful, as though the very notion still seemed ludicrous to him. 

Adil had a chance. He just had to say “yes”, and agree with Toby that seeing more of St-John wasn’t a good idea. He knew Toby would follow his lead as he often did. But then he remembered the way Toby’s face had looked all evening, the way his laugh had sounded, the eagerness and passion vibrating in his voice as he talked and talked, the way he was drinking St-John’s words like a parched man stumbling upon a well in the desert. He knew he had no right to deprive him of this. It would be unforgivably cruel. 

— “He’s done nothing wrong,” he thus replied, conjuring up all the love and inner strength he could muster. “It wouldn’t be right for you to stop seeing him with no explanation. I’ve told you: as long as he doesn’t do or say anything explicit, you don’t have to change anything to your relationship.” 

Toby exhaled, and his relief was unmistakeable. Adil knew right then that he had done the right thing ‒ if not for his own peace of mind, at least for Toby’s. 

— “It’s true,” his lover said. “It wouldn’t be right. Whatever the reason, he’s been nothing but kind to me so far. I have no reason to shun him.”

— “No, you don’t,” Adil approved softly, tearing off the last remainders of his sense of self-preservation. 

— “Adil?”

— “Yes?” 

— “You know it really doesn’t change anything to _our_ relationship, right? Even if I spend more time with Alistair…you know I will never feel anything more than friendship for him, don’t you?” 

— “Well I certainly hope so,” Adil said in a joking tone. 

_Never say never, my love_  
.  
Toby frowned and pressed his hands on each side of his face. 

— “I mean it, Adil. I won’t. I’m yours! Only yours!” 

Adil felt warmth spreading inside him at the words. He couldn’t help it. It was so tempting to just let himself believe them. When Toby leaned in to kiss him, he responded. 

Toby rested his forehead against his after they broke apart. 

— “You’re my swan,” he whispered. 

Adil wondered if he had heard right. 

— “I’m your what?” 

— “My swan,” Toby repeated. “You help me believe that I’m not the ugly duckling anymore.” 

It was as sweet a declaration as could be, and yet Adil couldn’t help chuckling. 

— “Your swan…”

— “What? What’s wrong with that? They’re beautiful and graceful creatures,” Toby protested, pouting. 

— “That’s true,” Adil conceded. “But they’re also pretty aggressive, and they have a really obnoxious cry,” he added teasingly. 

— “It is said that they mate for life, though,” Toby replied softly. 

Adil’s heart swelled in his chest. 

— “I love you,” he said.

— “And I love you,” Toby answered, grasping Adil’s shoulders. “Please don’t doubt that.” 

Adil didn’t doubt it. Not right now. He just wished that he could be equally sure about the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any thoughts? :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, I hope you are all ok and safe. 
> 
> So this is a long mostly Toby-centric chapter, there is not much action in this one but I hope you will like it. Adil will be back in the next one ;). 
> 
> I want to thank all the people who left kudos and/or commented on the previous chapters, especially the lovely Inner-tempest and Princess-of-Troy who keep encouraging me to continue this story. <3

For the first time in a while, Toby had some trouble focusing on his work the next morning. The events of the previous day were still making his head spin – and it had nothing to do with an excessive consumption of alcohol. In fact, he had had only three glasses, one at that café and two at the Halcyon’s bar. Alistair’s surprise visit, their conversation, and most of all, Adil’s completely unexpected reaction, were enough to make his mind reel. He kept thinking about what Adil had told him. _Alistair is like us. Alistair is interested in me._

Could it really be true? It seemed so unlikely! And yet Adil had been right in his assumptions once, and Toby himself had had his suspicions, although he had dismissed them as quickly as they had arisen. 

The very thought of having a choice, of being at the centre of a rivalry between two men – two very attractive men who were both way out of his league – seemed to him like some sort of fevered dream. It was incredible enough that Adil had taken an interest in him, wanted him, loved him – loved him so deeply that he was willing to sacrifice everything for him, and the knowledge still amazed and terrified Toby – but Alistair? They had only seen each other twice, written to each other for two months…was it really enough for this type of attraction to develop? Toby was certainly not the kind of man someone could fall in love at first sight with. He knew he was hardly a looker and completely lacked charisma. There were plenty of other, more colourful fish in the ocean, and he couldn’t believe someone like Alistair would stoop so low. But of course, finding another man like them wasn’t that easy, let alone in their social circle. Maybe Alistair was just making do with what he had? But then again, how did he know about Toby? Was it really so obvious? Or was it just a special sixth sense that other homosexual men possessed and he was deprived of? 

Toby started collecting all the clues that could lead to Adil’s conclusion. He needed a pattern, something to organize and sort out in a rational way. Facts: Alistair wasn’t married or engaged. He had said that he wouldn’t make a suitable husband. He had stated _while staring at Toby_ that he did not intend to compete with his cousin for female attention. He had refused to dance and stayed with Toby – no, that one in itself was not conclusive. But he had offered Toby a cigarette and looked right into his eyes again right at the moment when they were the closest to each other physically. And there was what he had said about cryptology and the need for secrecy…and his speech about the swans at the café…And the fact that he had wanted Toby to ask him a personal question…he surely couldn’t have expected him to ask anything about _that_ , when they were in a public place? But maybe he hoped that Toby would find some sort of code to bring up the topic? If so, he must have been sorely disappointed. Toby might be good at cryptology, but he had absolutely no clue as to how to handle this kind of situation. If there were signs to read, he was unable to, even after spending so much time around the much more observant and experienced Adil. Adil who seemed quite sure he was right. Toby tried to consider the possibility with as much objectivity as he could. Admitting that Alistair did want more from him than just friendship, how exactly did he feel about that? 

He tried to take Adil out of the equation, which was no mean feat. Had he not met Adil, how would he have reacted if a man like Alistair had let him know that he was interested in him in this way? The answer was plain and simple. He would have been over the moon. Alistair was kind and thoughtful, smart and well-read, witty and handsome. He seemed like the ideal partner, the kind of man anyone would dream of. The kind of man Toby would have dreamed of, had he not fallen head over heels for a certain bartender. As it was, Alistair, with all his qualities, didn’t stand a chance. Toby wished Adil could see it as clearly as he felt it in his heart. He could tell his lover was really worried, and he thought he could understand why, even though it was hard to admit. They had discussed Adil’s insecurities after _that night_ , the damage done to his self-image by racism and class divide, the feeling of utter powerlessness that had led him to surrender to d’Abberville, the ingrained certainty that his life and that of his family didn’t weigh much in the balance because of what they looked like and where they came from. Toby had felt appalled, and ashamed of his own privilege as a rich white man, all the more so that he knew he had contributed to Adil’s internalization of his perceived inferiority through his own terrible attitude and humiliating words. No matter how devastated, betrayed and angry he had been feeling at that moment, he would never forgive himself for ever pronouncing these words, even though Adil had agreed to wipe the slate clean between them. These wounds run deep and Toby knew from experience that they would not heal so easily. Adil’s ego was still fragile. Where Toby saw treasures, he saw shortcomings. No wonder that he felt threatened by the very embodiment of what had been taught to see as the epitome of social superiority: another wealthy white man, another aristocrat, who seemed so much more suited to Toby. As though it meant that Toby would automatically transfer his affections to him, now that he had this opportunity. As though it was the normal, socially appropriate thing to do and Adil just had to accept it. He could still hear the resignation in Adil’s voice as he offered to take the blame after d’Abberville had found out about them: “You’re who you are, and I’m…what I am.” Toby didn’t want Adil to be resigned. It hurt to know that he thought he would always be second-rate, second choice. He deserved to be first, and he would always be first with Toby. Hurting him again was the last thing Toby wanted…

And yet he didn’t want to renounce his budding friendship with Alistair either. 

Once his shyness had been overcome, he had deeply enjoyed their conversation the past evening. Was it really too much to ask, to have a new friend, and still be able to keep his lover happy? After all, Freddie had several friends, and he also had Emma. But of course, Emma was in no danger of getting jealous of Freddie’s male comrades. If Freddie started spending time with a pretty woman, things would probably be different. Toby let out a sigh. He couldn’t deny that part of him did want Alistair to be attracted to men too…It would be so wonderful to have one more person in his life who knew the truth about him, and who he could be entirely himself around…he just didn’t want the man to be attracted to _him_. He prayed to God that Adil was wrong about that, at least.

A sarcastic voice suddenly snapped him out of his thoughts: 

— “Hamilton, may I remind you there’s a war going on? Would you be so kind as to grace us with your presence of mind and finish up these stats before next year? Remember you won’t get to bring those back to your fancy hotel room to make up for lost time. We cannot risk another leak just because your almost-lordship cannot be bothered to focus during work hours, now, can we?” 

Toby felt his cheeks burn and his eyes sting. 

Albert Jones was looking at him scornfully, standing by his desk. Out of his three colleagues, he had been the most vindictive against Toby after the spying debacle, and he still didn’t miss a single opportunity to pick up on him. He didn’t seem ready to let it rest, no matter how much time had passed and how many efforts Toby made to redeem himself. In fact, the man had taken a dislike to him from the very first day they had met and the disastrous affair had given him an ideal pretext to act on it. 

Toby wished he could reply with something equally icy and biting, have the guts to stand up to this man instead of losing his countenance and shrinking up in his seat like a little boy scolded for getting into trouble. But he knew he was in the wrong here, caught staring idly at nothing instead of working, and even if he hadn’t been, the guilt of his past mistakes was smothering him, like it did every time the painful memory was brought up. He tried to croak an apology, but his voice didn’t cooperate. Jones was still staring down at him, a disdainful grimace distorting his face.

— “Oh, come on, Jones,” Peter Jenkins interjected. “Cut him some slack! He’s been more efficient than the three of us put together these last few months. And forgive me if I am mistaken, but he’s not the one who takes three lengthy breaks a day and drew a naked woman looking like that blond steno of the second floor on the draft version of his last report. That was you. So shut it!” 

Toby looked at Jenkins in surprise. The man was rarely so vocal when it came to taking his defence. Their other colleague, Murdoch, just chuckled and glanced at Jones as if to say “You had this one coming”. 

Jones seemed discomfited, not finding anything to reply. He grumbled and got back to his seat, glaring at Toby, then snorted and pretended to get absorbed in the document in front of him.

The knot in Toby’s chest loosened and he exhaled, feeling his lungs expand, then contract again as he regained his ability to breathe freely. 

— “Thank you,” he mouthed at Jenkins. 

The man just nodded, as if to say “You’re welcome”, and got back to his own work.

Toby looked down at his desk, ashamed. Even though there was no need to express it in such humiliating words, Jones was right. This was not the time and place for daydreaming. There was too much at stake, and he couldn’t afford to waste time. He steeled his will and got back to business, banishing all parasite thoughts. A couple of hours later, he had finished the requested stats and handed over the completed document to his colleague, who grudgingly took it without a word. Toby saw him reviewing it, probably looking for a mistake he could blame him for. Toby was confident he wouldn’t find any. He just ignored the other man and resolutely dived back into work. By the end of the day, he had gone through the contents of an entire file of coded documents. His superior nodded at him in approval when he came to collect them. Toby felt it as keenly as a pat on the shoulder. 

Jones was livid. 

Toby walked tall between the two guards when he exited the building, and they made no move to stop him and search him. He exhaled and looked at the sky, smiling.

***

— “Someone seems to be in a good mood,” Adil commented when he saw the grin on Toby’s face. 

Toby wrapped his arms around his waist. 

— “Yes, I am,” he confirmed. 

— “Any particular reason?” 

— “I love you.” 

Adil chuckled. 

— “And that’s why you’re in a good mood?” 

— “That’s part of it,” Toby said. “At least that’s a major reason why I’m happy, and if I have to remind you of that every day, I will.” 

— “Well, that’s very sweet of you,” Adil replied, stroking his cheek. “But there must be another reason you are in such high spirits today in particular, isn’t?” 

— “Right,” Toby approved. “I’ve had a good day at work.” 

— “Oh,” Adil said, surprised that Toby was breaking his rule of silence regarding his work. 

— “It started off very badly, actually. I couldn’t focus and Jones…you know, my colleague…he started lashing out at me.”

Adil’s heart clenched with guilt. He knew this Jones had never been friendly to Toby, but he also guessed what had made him escalate from passive-aggressive behaviour to overt hostility. 

— “But then Jenkins defended me and made him shut up. And even Murdoch seemed to be on my side this time. And I worked very well after that, I even got ahead of what I was supposed to do, and my superior actually acknowledged it. And that’s not the best…when I got out, the guards didn’t search me! They didn’t even make me open my briefcase! Someone gave them new orders. It means they trust me again! I’m not longer considered unreliable and a threat to safety. Adil, they trust me again!”

The joy on Toby’s face and the relief in his voice washed over Adil. The weight of the burden he carried suddenly seemed much lighter.

— “Toby, that’s…that’s wonderful!” 

_I’m so sorry you had to go through all this, my love. I’m so, so sorry._

They embraced, eyes watering without them paying attention to it. Maybe they could really put all this behind them now. If only they didn’t let anything or anyone stand between them again. 

***

— “Mr Hamilton? A Mr St-John for you on the phone,” Mrs Taylor announced.

Toby froze for a second. 

He had had no news of Alistair for a week, and that should have given him some time to adapt his behaviour, but somehow he was caught unprepared. 

— “Alright, put him through,” he said. 

His heart started beating a little faster as he heard Alistair’s slightly deformed voice through the receptor, greeting him. He answered, surprised at how poised he himself sounded. Alistair then asked whether Toby would like them to meet and have tea in town on Sunday. 

Toby bit his lip, unsure of what he ought to do. Should he refuse and lie about having other plans? That didn’t seem right. After all, he did want to see Alistair, and he knew he couldn’t postpone their next meeting forever without the man rightly taking offence. Then, should he request that they meet at the Halcyon instead of in town, so that Adil knew he had nothing to hide? But maybe it would be even worse for him to see them while he was working? What if he had to serve them at their table? Surely it would feel awkward? Toby didn’t have time to consult him on that, though. 

— “Toby? Are you still there?” 

— “Yes, yes, sorry, I was just…”

What exactly was he doing? Why should this be so complicated? He had done nothing wrong, and neither had Alistair! There was no need for such circumvolutions! Besides, there was only one way to know the truth of the matter. If he kept avoiding Alistair, this uncertainty would never end. 

— “I’d be glad to have tea on Sunday,” he said at last, determined. “Do you have a particular place in mind?” 

— “I can think of a few, unless you have an idea?” 

— “I do, actually. I may not go out much, but I’ve had tea in town with my family a few times, and I know of this place that makes some fine sandwiches and pastries.” 

— “Well, I’d be delighted to discover it,” Alistair replied, and he did sound delighted. 

— “Good. Then we could meet at four thirty? At the hotel if it’s convenient for you?” 

— “Absolutely.” 

— “Alright. Well…see you on Sunday, then?” 

— “Four thirty. I’ll be there. Goodbye, Toby.” 

— “Goodbye,” Toby answered. 

He hung up the phone, fingers shaking slightly. He hoped he had taken the right decision. At least, if he examined his feelings honestly, he couldn’t find anything telling him that it was the wrong one. But would Adil feel the same way? 

Toby took the first opportunity to talk to him about it. Of course, Adil immediately said that Toby didn’t have to tell him, that he could do what he wanted and see who he wanted, but that he thanked him all the same for letting him know. Toby explained his point of view, and Adil approved. Toby gazed in his beautiful, soulful dark eyes, wishing he couldn’t see any trace of worry or sadness in them. But there was some, and Toby wanted to cancel the meeting right away. Adil stopped him, saying there was no reason to, that it wouldn’t be fair, that it wouldn’t be polite, and that he really didn’t mind. He even renewed his encouragements for Toby to stop thinking about what he had told him and act completely naturally around St-John. Toby was torn, but finally relented. Giving too much importance to Adil’s fears might do more harm than good, after all. And he didn’t want to start unconsciously resenting his lover for preventing him to see Alistair, when he knew he wanted to. It would all be auto-censorship, of course, since Adil would never actually speak up. He hoped showing Adil his love and being honest about his whereabouts in Alistair’s comp any would be enough to nip his lover’s insecurities in the bud. 

Sunday came without them having brought up the subject again. 

At four thirty, Toby was standing in front of the hotel when he saw the tall silhouette appear. St-John was at his side in a couple of strides, and greeted him amicably, hoping he had not been staying outside for too long. Toby answered by the negative, waiting in vain for a feeling of awkwardness or unease to rise in him. Alistair was there smiling and the only thing Toby felt was comfort. It was as though his body and mind instinctively relaxed in Alistair’s presence, and not even what he suspected now could change that. Was it because he subconsciously felt that the man was not a threat, in the sense that they were both playing on the same team and there was no risk of being reported to the police, molested or blackmailed? Toby discreetly observed Alistair, trying to detect the tell-tale signs that Adil had seen, and he had missed. Nothing obvious jumped at him. And that was lucky. If their difference was that glaring, they would have absolutely no chance of melting in. Toby was aware of the caricatures society made of men like him. They were painted as either overly effeminate and foppish, or predatory beasts preying on young boys – or as a mix of both. That was part of why Toby had had such a hard time figuring himself out. He didn’t think he matched any of the two descriptions. Neither did Adil. Not wanting to be caught watching Alistair – especially not if it could be interpreted as ogling – Toby gave up and led the way towards their destination.

The tea room was not far from the Halcyon, and was just as nice as Toby remembered, war notwithstanding. He had been there a few times with his mother and Freddie – never his father, of course. He could even remember one occasion he had gone there alone with his mother, and they had spent some rare quality time together, talking and laughing about little nothings. Although they had carefully avoided broaching any of the topics they should really have been discussing, Toby still recalled this moment fondly. 

He told Alistair so, omitting the most personal details and the complicated background of his relationship with his mother. He had told no one about that, except Adil.  
Alistair seemed to genuinely like the setting, which strengthened Toby’s confidence in his personal taste. 

— “So how did your first week of training go?” He asked once they were settled with their tea and a choice of delicacies. 

Alistair chuckled derisively. 

— “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that much bodily fluid of all kinds in my life. My comrades seem to find it particularly amusing to give me all the most unappealing chores to do. Whether it’s because I am what they call a “rookie”, or because they want the scholarly aristocrat to literally get his hands dirty, I couldn’t say.”

Toby grimaced in sympathy. 

— “But I’m not complaining, really. It’s all part of the trade, as my dear Harry tells me. “You’ll see, Al, this will all grow up on you in the end.””

He rolled his eyes. 

— “And do you think it will?” Toby asked, genuinely curious. 

— “Honestly, I’m not expecting to enjoy it. I just want something useful to do. And I hope I will not completely disgrace myself under fire. But I already know this is not my true calling. I’m a man of words and reflection, not action. I would be better suited for cryptology work than that. I’ve sent a few applications, but with no luck so far.” 

— “Well…I wish I could put in a word for you at the…I mean at my office, but…” Toby said, his tongue feeling like lead. 

He knew the offer was probably expected of him, but he also knew he could never actually do that. After all, he knew virtually nothing of Alistair, and he didn’t want to attract any more attention from his hierarchy. Not now that they finally seemed to have forgiven him. 

— “Oh Lord, no, please don’t do anything of the sort!” Alistair exclaimed with an earnestness and vivacity that surprised Toby. “I mean, I appreciate it, but I’d much rather earn a place on my own merits than rely on any connections I might have. I’m sure you can understand?” 

— “Oh…I…Yes, I understand completely,” Toby stammered. 

Didn’t he indeed. It was exactly what he wanted when he had applied for this position at the War Office: to prove himself and be recognized for the value of his work instead of his family name. Step out of the shadow of his father and brother. And yet the very things he had yearned to leave behind had come back to hit him straight in the face when he had been suspected of treason. All of a sudden, he was once again the entitled aristocrat with a Nazi-loving father, who thought himself above the law and was too craven to face his own responsibilities; the gutless wimp who needed his Lordship of a brother to step in and save the day by pulling a few strings. Toby knew Freddie had meant well, and was only concerned for his safety ‒ probably rightfully so. Toby didn’t want to think about what would have been next in store for him after that slap. And yet part of him couldn’t help resenting his twin for robbing him of his own agency and taking the reins from his hands once again.

— “Toby? Did I say anything to offend you? I didn’t mean to imply that you had relied on anything else than your own merits to get your current position,” Alistair said, sounding concerned. 

Toby realized he must have zoned out for a while, lost in his thoughts. 

— “No, you didn’t offend me,” he said. 

Oddly, the possibility that Alistair could have implied that had not entered his mind.

— “I’m glad,” Alistair replied, looking relieved. “Because that really wasn’t my intention.” 

— “I know,” Toby assured with a smile. 

Alistair smiled too, and the expression on his face made Toby blush. 

— “What?” He said in spite of himself. 

— “Nothing. I was just thinking how sombre you looked just a moment ago, and what a difference it makes now that you are smiling.” 

Toby’s brain short-circuited. 

Was that flirting? Was Alistair flirting with him? That definitely sounded like flirting and _oh my God_ , they were in a public place and what was he supposed to answer to that? 

He didn’t have time to decide, though, because Alistair was speaking again, nonchalantly taking a scone from the cake stand between them. 

— “I meant that it’s a good thing that whatever dampened your spirits does not seem to be lasting. Although of course, if you need a friendly ear, I’d be glad to help.” 

Toby tried to calm down and look at things rationally. He discreetly glanced around. The waiters were all out of earshot and the other clients had not interrupted their conversations. No one seemed to have heard anything inappropriate. Alistair was now daintily spreading jam on one half of his scone as though absolutely nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Toby started doubting that anything had. After all, Alistair had just stated a fact. A very obvious one at that. There was a difference between when he was smiling and when he looked sombre. So what? That didn’t mean Alistair liked to see him smile; at least not in a more-than-friendly way. He cared about his moods, and liked to see him smile because he was a good friend and genuinely cared about him. That didn’t have to mean anything more than that. That didn’t mean he thought that Toby had a nice smile – an _attractive_ smile.

He chose to ignore the ambiguous remark and focus on Alistair’s last offer. 

— “Thank you,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t falter. “I appreciate it, but there is really nothing to say. I just got lost in some…unpleasant memories for a while. Anyway, I really hope you will soon find the position you seek. I’m sure you would be a brilliant cryptologist…”

— “Speaking of cryptology, one of my colleagues has just sent me an interesting article about Enochian…”

— “The language of angels?” Toby said, relieved that Alistair was giving him an out. “Yes, it is quite fascinating isn’t it?” 

— “Also quite hermetic, but then, I suppose that is the point.”

— “Yes. In fact there is no known use for it except in magical practice and spiritualism. John Dee was such a brilliant man, he…”

Toby stopped for a second before remembering he had no reason to, since Alistair was actually interested in what he had to say. 

The conversation rolled on John Dee, Edward Kelley and Enochian, and then on all the other made-up cryptic languages and alphabets they knew. Toby was particularly interested by Alistair’s mention of the “lingua ignota” invented by the Abbess Hildegarde von Bingen in the 12th Century. He wished to learn more about this intriguing woman who was all at once a mystic, a poet, a naturalist, a healer and a composer. 

From one engrossing topic to the other, time flew, and they finally decided it was time to go. Toby could barely believe it was already this late. 

— “Do you mind if I give a quick telephone call before leaving?” Alistair asked. “I make all my calls from a booth, since my lodgings are not yet properly equipped, and I have to admit those red boxes make me feel a little claustrophobic. The only space that small a human being should have to spend any time in is their coffin.” 

— “Of course. But I didn’t know you had taken lodgings? I assumed you would be staying at your aunt’s,” Toby said, surprised. 

— “Oh, no, that was just temporary,” Alistair answered. “I figured having my own place would be more convenient in the long run, as I will often have to go out after black out. My aunt is a very emotive person and has trouble sleeping. I wouldn’t want to risk causing ruckus in the house with my comings and goings. Those bombings are already taking enough of a toll on her health. My uncle and Harry wanted her to leave London. My mother offered her to join her at our country home, but she refused. “The King and Queen are not going anywhere, why should we set any less of an example”.”

— “I understand,” Toby replied. “Where do you live, then?” 

Alistair gave an address in a much less select part of town than Toby would have expected, but as Alistair told him, it was rather well situated with respect to the hospital and training premises.

St-John went to the counter to ask if he could use the phone, and the staff in attendance directed him to a secluded space at the back of the room. Toby followed without thinking, waiting a few feet away while Alistair was making his call. 

He was not quite far enough, though, because he soon realized he could hear what Alistair was saying, albeit not very clearly. He knew he should walk away and give the man some privacy, but curiosity won and he found himself starting to listen. 

— “… Are they both alright? Is Jack very mean to Algie? ...damn the little devil… Do they eat well?...Yes, that’s right…do they miss me?...Please give them both lots of cuddles for me…tell them their Daddy misses them very much…yes, don’t worry…thank you Mrs G, you’re the best!”

 _Daddy??_

Toby wondered if he had heard correctly. 

Could Alistair have children?? Two boys, from what Toby had gathered…Jack and Algie…It was probably Algernon. 

But Alistair wasn’t married…of course, this didn’t prevent him from having a love child…or two, as it was. Twins, maybe? He had said that he wasn’t interested in having affairs with women…but what if he had had a great love story with a woman, and they had been forced to end their affair, even though the young lady was pregnant with Alistair’s children? Or the unfortunate mother may have died in childbirth, leaving Alistair heart-broken and inconsolable, which could explain his subsequent disinterest in the fair sex. He had probably had to entrust his infant sons to the care of some wet nurse or a nice family in the countryside, to protect his lover’s memory and both their families from scandal…he did seem very attached to them, though, had probably been visiting them in secret for years…And Toby had overheard it all, and was now, unbeknownst to Alistair, privy to this very sensitive information! 

He barely had time to hide his emotion. Alistair had hung up and was making his way towards him, smiling. Toby was barely able to talk as they made their way back to the Halcyon. Alistair seemed a bit surprised as his sudden lack of loquacity, but he didn’t push. Finally, as they were approaching the hotel, Toby couldn’t hold it in anymore. 

— “Alistair, I…I must tell you something.”

— “Yes? What is it?” 

— “I’m so sorry…I really didn’t mean to pry, I swear, but I…I overheard part of your telephone conversation earlier.” 

— “Oh…”

— “I really should have walked away, I know, and I will never forgive myself for not doing just that, but I really hope you won’t be angry at me…”

— “It’s quite alright, Toby. There is no need for you to beat yourself up about it, really. This is not the most discreet place to make a phone call, after all.” 

— “You are very kind to react in this way, but it really was very rude of me, and…”

— “Well, I hope I can trust you not to have done it with any evil intentions,” Alistair retorted calmly. 

— “No, of course not! And even though this is really none of my business, I want to tell you that…I don’t judge you.” 

— “Toby, what exactly are you talking about?” 

—“Your sons…I think that, whatever their history and yours, they deserve the best life they can get, and they are very fortunate to have a father like you…”

— “My…what??”

To Toby’s surprise, Alistair guffawed, as though he had never heard anything so funny in his life. 

— “Oh my Lord, Toby, you thought that I had actual _children??”_

— “Well…don’t you? Jack and Algie…you said their daddy missed them very much…”

Alistair didn’t seem to be able to stop his fit of giggles. 

— “Alright, yes, I do!” He managed to utter. “I have two very hairy and very whimsical children…”

Seeing as Toby seemed just as clueless, he finally clarified:

— “Toby, Algernon and Jack…they’re my cats!” 

— “Your… your cats?” Toby repeated in confusion. 

— “Yes! My housekeeper in Oxford is taking care of them while I’m away!”

— “Oh…Oh, I’m sorry, I thought…”

— “That I had secret illegitimate children, since I told you I was not married and never had been?” 

— “Well…yes,” Toby confessed, blushing at his own assumptions. 

Alistair chuckled and shook his head in amusement. 

— “I think you just had a nice bout of Catherine Morland’s disease here, my dear Toby.”

Toby couldn’t help smiling at the reference to Jane Austen’s over-imaginative heroine. Alistair had told him in confidence that the works of the 19th Century novelist were one of his guilty literary pleasures. Toby had never actually dared to read anything by her, so Alistair had lent him a few volumes, and he had enjoyed them greatly. Her writing was much deeper and wittier and much less frivolous than what he had been told it was. 

— “Serves me right for eavesdropping,” he replied. “I promise I won’t ever do it again.” 

— “I certainly hope so. But you are still privy to my most shameful secret…one word from you and my reputation is lost…”

— “What…what do you mean?” 

— “I’m calling myself my cats’ Daddy. And asking my housekeeper to tell them I miss them,” Alistair replied, rolling his eyes. “You can rightfully say that I’m a laughing stock.” 

Toby chuckled. 

— “No, I think it’s rather sweet.” 

— “Do you?” 

Toby cursed inwardly. He really shouldn’t have said that, although he had meant it in a completely innocent way. 

— “But you have to admit it was really misleading,” he joked, once again trying to steer the conversation back into safer waters. “Children were the most logical assumption.”

— “I’m not meant to be a father. I’m…you know…one of the uncles,” Alistair said, in a much more serious tone than before. 

Once again, there was something in his voice, in the way he was looking Toby in the eye, as though he was trying to communicate something that went beyond his words. As though his words didn’t exactly mean what they seemed to mean. As though it was some sort of code. 

And now, Toby thought he had a good idea of what it stood for. 

_One of the uncles._

Toby knew he would probably never have children himself – unless he was someday forced to marry a woman of his social standing. He had never really pictured himself as a father – he could barely take care of himself, so how could he hope to raise children? The only thing he knew, the only thing he had always told himself whenever the thought did occur, was that, if he ever had children, they would get as much love, attention and respect as they deserved, and be all equally considered, whatever their tastes or personality. He would not let any one of them feel like they were worthless or useless. Not to him, at least. 

Over the years, as he was getting more aware of his complete lack of interest in women, the thought had grown fainter; but now that he was with Adil, it did resurface, from time to time, as paradoxical as it could be. The faceless children running around in his head now strangely looked like mini-Adils. Like he imagined Adil’s children would look. But Adil couldn’t have children either, unless he married a woman. Toby wondered if he would be able to love children that were half-Adil, half-the person who’d stolen him from Toby. And the answer was yes. Unreservedly yes. But that wouldn’t make him a father. And that certainly wouldn’t make him happy, or Adil. For both of them, never being a father was probably the lesser of two evils. 

What Toby was pretty sure he would one day be was an uncle: the uncle of Freddie’s children, and hopefully Emma’s ‒ unless War and life decided otherwise. But Toby didn’t want to consider that possibility. 

— “Yes,” he finally said. “I think I know.” 

Alistair looked at him, and he looked back, and something trembled in the air between them, but then a familiar American-accented voice hailed, “Hello there, Toby!” and the moment was gone. 

Not sure whether he felt relieved or disappointed, Toby answered Mr O’Hara’s greetings and introduced him to Alistair, who didn’t seem to mind the interruption in the slightest. 

They chatted amicably for a few minutes while walking the rest of the way to the Halcyon, Alistair showing great interest in Joe’s work – the journalist had been out all day conducting interviews with Blitz survivors. The natural with which he talked and acted amazed Toby. He didn’t seem at all like a man who had just been about to share a life-defining secret. Once again, Toby wondered if he had been making things up. 

When they reached the hotel door, Joe wanted the three of them to have a drink – or at least a cigarette – together and continue their conversation, but Alistair politely declined, saying that he should go back to his place to get some rest before starting another week of training. 

— “Another time, then, I hope?” Joe said jovially. 

— “Gladly,” Alistair replied. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr O’Hara.” 

— “Same here, Mr St-John.”

— “Toby, I’ve had the most pleasant afternoon,” Alistair then said, looking at Toby. 

— “So have I,” Toby answered sincerely. 

— “I hope we can meet again soon?” 

— “Of course. Maybe next week, if you are free?” 

— “I’ll make sure of it,” Alistair replied with a smile. “Goodbye, Toby. Goodbye, Mr O’Hara.” 

He tipped his hat in a civil salute and went away. 

Toby felt Joe’s eyes on him and turned to look at the American, feeling defensive. Had Joe noticed something odd? 

— “What is it, Joe?” He asked a bit curtly. 

The journalist chuckled and shook his head. 

— “Oh, nothing. It’s just good to know you’re having some fun, kiddo.”

— “Kiddo?” 

— “Boy? Son? Child?” Joe translated, smiling. 

— “Really, Joe! I’m twenty-two, I’m hardly a child anymore. And please don’t ever call me “kiddo” in front of my mother or she’ll have a stroke.” 

— “Apologies, Mr Hamilton. I didn’t mean to offend,” O’Hara joked, mimicking a bow. 

— “Just get inside, will you?” Toby retorted, rolling his eyes. 

He wanted to go to the bar to see Adil; and he also wanted to go straight up to his room to think. He wasn’t sure which of the two impulses was the strongest at that moment. His head was starting to spin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Joe O'Hara, gay epiphany mood breaker extraordinaire haha ! 
> 
> NB: According to my research, the expression "One of the uncles" was actually used as a euphemism for "homosexual" (e.g. in films) 
> 
> The whole cats/children quiproquo was inspired to me by one of my friends who really seems to be talking about kids when she talks about her cats on the phone. :D 
> 
> Please forgive the inaccuracies in the war timeline/events/daily life organization in this fic, for plot and time reasons I can't really do much about them, sorry. 
> 
> Please share your thoughts if you have any ! :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone ! 
> 
> So I thought Chapter 7 had taken me a long time to write, but this one tops it. Here it is at last. Enjoy ! :)

One Sunday afternoon turned into two, then three, then some Saturday nights, and even week nights on a few occasions, although those meetings didn’t end up late.   
There were teas and lunches and drinks, walks in the park and art galleries to visit, and even the pictures once. 

Adil wished he didn’t care enough to count.

Toby didn’t ask him for permission anymore, but he always warned him beforehand, and told him everything he had done afterwards. Adil sort of wished he didn’t. He knew Toby was doing it for his sake, to be as transparent as possible, but also because he liked telling him about it. They had always enjoyed talking about their lives, their days, what made them happy and unhappy. The taboo of Toby’s work had been an obstacle, and Adil knew how good it must feel for him to have something he could actually discuss with him in detail. But it was becoming harder and harder to smile and nod and comment and approve, when he was internally wishing Toby to stop talking and keep all this to himself. He didn’t need to hear any more praising of St-John’s seemingly endless knowledge and personal qualities. He didn’t want to know of all the exciting things they did in town. 

It wasn’t as though the Halcyon was preserved from the influence, though. Toby also met St-John at the hotel from time to time. The man had even spent the night on two occasions. Adil had steered clear from Toby’s room both times, deeming it too risky. St-John could very well have come knocking at the wrong time on some pretext.

To make things even more irking, the man seemed to have charmed everyone, from Mr O’Hara to Lady Hamilton (who had invited him for breakfast with her and Toby) and Miss Garland (who had had the opportunity to work alongside St-John to help the injured during the recent air raids and had praised his calm and efficiency). The rest of the staff was similarly disposed. St-John was polite, tipped well and didn’t have any unreasonable demands. By service standards, he was the ideal patron. Adil knew he would have thought the same under normal circumstances, but the constant gushing was tiresome. Even Kate couldn’t stop babbling about what a fine gentleman Mr St-John was, and how kind and courteous he had been to her when she had come to see to his room on his overnight stay – of course, Adil thought cynically, it must be a nice change for her, since St-John obviously had no interest in getting under her skirt. 

Even though Adil did his best to ignore the other man whenever service didn’t require otherwise, their eyes had met more often than he would have liked. And each time the same feeling had arisen in his chest. St-John knew about him and Toby, or at least he suspected something. And if this was a competition, he didn’t intend to let Adil win. 

Not that he really had much hope to begin with. 

The thought was planted, and there was nothing he could do to chase it away. 

The thought that a lowly servant who used to scrub the kitchen floor and throw out garbage had no business trying to compete with an aristocrat. The thought that a cocktail maker couldn’t hold a candle to a brilliant Oxonian, who could talk about the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood’s paintings, the political intricacies of the Hundred Years War and the poetry of a French Duke named Charles of Orleans. A man who sometimes used fancy words Adil had never heard, and could not for the life of him guess the meaning of, but that Toby seemed to recognize and understand instantly. The difference in their upbringing had never appeared more clearly to Adil than it did now. He could deal with Toby’s wealth; even though it sometimes humiliated him or made him feel awkward, he knew deep down that being poorer didn’t make him any less worthy of interest as a person. But his education…of course, the two things went hand in hand, in most cases. It was another privilege of the aristocracy. Being sent to the best – and most expensive – schools, having access to books, going to concerts and the theatre…he had always known and felt that Toby was much more cultured than he was. But somehow it had never really bothered him before. Toby was not only well-educated, he was intelligent, and his passion for knowledge was genuine. Adil loved to hear him talk about all kinds of topics, even when he didn’t know the first thing about them himself. Somehow, Toby managed to make them sound interesting and compelling, and he never rebuffed Adil’s questions, never made him feel like he was stupid or ignorant. But now that he had seen Toby interact with someone who could really give him a run for his money, someone who actually knew what Toby was talking about and had equally interesting things to say, Adil couldn’t help but feel like he had been depriving his lover of something important. Toby was inherently an intellectual. It was a key dimension of his character, and he must, even unconsciously, miss this kind of emulation when he was with him.

Adil was now ashamed at how poor his own topics of conversation were. What could be so interesting about cocktail recipes and liquor cabinet inventories, washing glasses and cutting lemons? And it was not as though his life got any more exciting when he wasn’t at work. How glamorous could a growing patch of mould on the wall or a non-efficient mouse-trap be? (Not that he would actually bring that up in front of Toby – his lover pestered him enough about letting him get him a more decent flat as it was). Even the letters he sometimes received from his family ‒ his most precious non-Toby-related personal joy ‒ lost all interest when it came to talking to his lover about them. The routine of the shop, his father’s pride at a good sale, his mother’s domestic satisfactions and contrarieties, the gossip about their neighbours, all of this was priceless to Adil, but could only be boring for Toby. Even Priya’s newfound marital bliss was bound to be fastidious after a while. 

And yet Toby never complained or zoned out when Adil talked to him. On the contrary, he asked for details, remembered particulars, laughed, looked _involved_. And now that Adil was reluctant to share such trivial things with him, he seemed to miss it, and invited his confidences, with an eagerness in his voice that seemed impossible to fake: “Enough about me, how was your day? Tell me about it!” or “Did you get a letter from your family? How are they doing? What are they saying?”   
But the shame remained, this feeling of not being worthy of Toby’s interest, of not being _enough_ anymore. 

He felt torn between wanting to fight for this man he knew beyond reason was the love of his life, and feeling that he ought to set him free. He didn’t want to drag Toby down and be an obstacle to his fulfilment. If there was a chance for him to be happy with St-John, then Adil had to let him go, as hard as it could be, because that was what true love meant. But he wasn’t quite there yet. Part of him resisted the thought, rebelled and bared teeth, refusing to abdicate. Refusing to relinquish his own right to happiness, even if this happiness was precarious and full of obstacles. From the day Toby had kissed him for the second time in his room, he had known this would not be the comfortable, easily flowing river kind of happiness. But it was the kind he wanted, because Toby was who he wanted. And he had gone through hell, had almost lost all chances of ever recovering that complicated, fragile, utterly brilliant happiness, had seen it shatter on the floor, thought it beyond repair, and it had almost killed him. But he had survived, and patiently collected the shards of his happiness to put them back together, and made it whole and beautiful again, even though some little pieces were still missing. It had come to resemble those Japanese vessels Toby had talked to him about once, whose cracks where repaired with gold, still visible but sublimated. Was it really going to be snatched away from him again now?

_Just tell him how you feel_ , his inner voice kept saying. _Why don’t you tell him?_   
But he never did.   
Partly because he childishly wanted Toby to notice and guess it himself, even though Adil was doing everything he could to dismiss his concerns, that frequently arose when they were alone; but most of all, because he felt terrible about his feelings. He was especially ashamed of his hurt pride over the fact that Toby seemed to be coming into himself more and more, walking taller, talking more easily in public, addressing people with more assurance. Adil knew he resented St-John for that, too: apparently having done more good for Toby’s self-esteem and confidence in a few months of friendship than he had done himself in over a year of relationship, with all his love and devotion. 

_Praise from a peer holds more weight than praise from an inferior_ , the awful, nagging other little voice in his mind told him – the darker one that he heard on his bad days, the one that had told him it would be so much better if he were dead, that he wouldn’t be missed, that him disappearing would make things easier for everyone ‒ _Why would he care about the cocktail waiter’s compliments? What are they worth to him compared to those of another aristocrat, a man of his own standing, with his own standards of value?_

The cold, freezing words were echoing again in his head, clutching his heart like merciless hands of ice. 

_There’s no place for you here and there never will be._  
***  
Dinner at St-John’s aunt’s and uncle’s. That didn’t sound very threatening. At least, Toby wouldn’t be alone with him. Adil should probably rejoice. 

Except that it sounded weirdly _official_. Which was stupid, of course. It wasn’t as though St-John could introduce Toby to his family as anything more than a friend. Hell, they _weren’t supposed_ to be anything more than bloody friends yet. In fact, as far as Adil knew, St-John had not made another attempt at disclosing his true nature to Toby since that time when Mr O’Hara had interrupted them. And Adil knew Toby enough to know that he wasn’t going to do anything to disrupt the status quo. 

It was just dinner. 

But Toby was going to spend the night, and that meant that Adil would not see him at all until the next morning – probably afternoon. He was supposed to go there directly after work – his dinner suit would be brought to the requested address by an errand boy – and have breakfast with the family on the morrow. Knowing Toby and St-John, breakfast could very well turn into lunch, especially if the house comprised a library. And Adil was quite sure that St-John was planning to play Scheherazade to keep Toby by his side as long as he could. 

— “Why the long face?” A familiar voice asked, startling him out of his mournful thoughts. 

Adil looked up to see Betsey leaning over the counter like some badly-behaved cat.

He made an effort to smile at her. 

— “Nothing,” he answered. “I was just thinking about…the mould on my walls.” 

— “Have you tried vinegar?” 

— “I…Yes, I have. It didn’t work very well.” 

The mould had indeed reappeared after a couple of days, and the pungent smell of vinegar had stayed in the atmosphere for far longer. Adil had been glad he didn’t keep his uniform at home. He had had the unpleasant impression that even his hair was impregnated with the acrid odour. He had not wanted Toby to approach him that day – but he had learned on that occasion that Hamiltons were nothing if not persistent.

— “But did you let it take for an hour or so before scrubbing it all clean?” Betsey asked. 

— “Err…No, I haven’t.” 

— “That’s why it didn’t work. You have to let it take, that’s the trick.” 

— “Oh? Well, I’ll try that then! Thank you, Betsey,” Adil said, surprised. 

He would not have thought of Betsey as the woman to go to for cleaning tips. In fact, his first reflex for this sort of things was to ask his mother. But telling his mother he lived in a mouldy flat was out of the question. He didn’t have the same reasons for hiding it from her than he did from Toby, but the result was the same. 

— “You’re welcome,” the singer replied. “But enough about mouldy walls, I have something much more exciting to talk about. Sonny and I are off duty tonight, and we’re going to a jazz club…”

— “A jazz club? What a surprise,” Adil replied, deadpan. 

— “Shut up, you rude boy! I wasn’t finished,” Betsey scolded him, giving him a little tap on the fingers. “I was saying: we’re going to a jazz club, and you’re coming with us.” 

— “Am I?” Adil said, eyebrows rising. “I wasn’t aware of that.” 

— “Well, now you are. I know this is your evening off, even though you never seem to remember that yourself. So no excuse. You’re coming with us this time, and I won’t take no for an answer!” 

Adil sighed, knowing she was not going to let it go. He suddenly realized that he had indeed no reason to refuse. If Toby was going out, why shouldn’t he? It was high time he had a night to himself.

— “Alright,” he said. “I will go with you.” 

— “Yes you will!” The singer triumphed. “Sonny’s going to be so pleased! Oh, and why don’t you ask Tom if he’d like to come along?” 

Adil felt relieved. If Tom was there, he would feel less like a third wheel. Although Sonny and Betsey would never willingly leave him out of their little bubble, their love and intimacy was so potent that they could hardly help it. 

The ginger barman accepted the offer readily, looking surprised and grateful at being included. Adil thought he probably did not have that many opportunities to have fun either. 

Adil warned Mr Garland out of courtesy. His evening off rarely coincided with Tom’s, and Adil almost never took advantage of his free time, preferring to work the extra hours. Although he used to do it mostly so he could save more money to send his family, he now had another reason for it: he wanted to spend as much time as he could with Toby, and he would have had no excuse to be on the hotel premises late at night if he wasn’t working. Tonight though, Toby would not be there, and Adil could really use the distraction. 

Mr Garland very civilly thanked him for warning him, and wished him an enjoyable evening, telling him it was well-deserved and commending him once more for the quality of his work. Adil smiled, genuinely touched and proud of his boss’s compliments as he always was. From experience, he knew he would be hardly pressed to find a better employer. He didn’t hold a grudge against the man for hesitating to give him three days off in a row for the wedding. He knew that even without his daughter’s intervention, Garland would probably have relented in the end. And he knew, above all, that his reluctance to part with him meant that he considered him an important member of the staff, whose experience could not be easily done without, and whose absence could have a negative impact on the quality of service. Adil felt valued. And that was worth more than he could tell. 

After the end of their requested work hours of the day, the four friends all went home to get ready for their night off, before meeting in front of the back entrance of the hotel again. It was easier this way, since the club was at a walking distance from the Halcyon. 

Seeing Tom out of his uniform felt strange. Adil was so used to the smart white livery that civil clothes looked odd on him. Judging from the other barman’s surprised little laugh, the feeling was mutual. They had also gone easier on the hair pomade, and that gave them a lot more casual appearance. 

— “Don’t you boys look good!” Betsey’s voice clamoured from behind them. 

She was dressed to impress in a cocktail-length red gown with white polka dots and matching earrings. Her dark curly hair was perfectly coiffed but unadorned. Adil remembered the various wigs, hats, scarfs and headbands she had been wearing for a couple of months following her release from hospital after the bombing, to hide her partly shaven skull and scars. Her mane had fully grown back and the scars where now invisible. Physically speaking, at least. Adil couldn’t vouch for the mental part. Betsey was very good at hiding any cracks in her boisterous, happy-go-lucky surface. Sonny and Emma Garland were probably the only living souls who knew anything about her potential trauma.

Adil suddenly realized they were survivors, all three – Sonny, Betsey and him. They could have died that night – should have, by the look of the odds at the time. And yet there they were, on their way to a jazz club. The thought was strangely invigorating. 

They made their way down the street, and Betsey started humming “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square”, sauntering on the pavement as though she were already dancing. Passer-bys threw scandalized, amused or interested looks at her, according to their age and gender. She didn’t seem to notice or care. 

— “I’m so glad to be here with my boys,” she said, putting one arm around Sonny’s waist and the other over Adil’s shoulder, beaming. 

Adil felt a rush of affection and admiration for this bold woman who had no concerns about being seen in the company of two coloured men, and was being openly familiar with them because she wanted to, not giving a fig about how it might damage her reputation. 

Figuring that Tom must feel left out, Betsey leaned over in a rather twisted posture, not wanting to release her grip on the other two men, and managed to kiss him on the cheek. 

— “Don’t be jealous, Tommy,” she said. 

Tom turned beetroot red, and reached up to touch his cheek, looking dazzled. 

The club was already crowded, but they miraculously managed to find a table that had just been vacated. Adil and Tom sat down while their companions went to exchange greetings with their musician friends. They came back soon, and the four friends started talking and laughing animatedly – with Betsey actually making much of the animation. Adil was feeling lighter, stepping out of his usual reserve little by little, and Tom’s shyness was similarly overcome. Betsey went to get them drinks at the bar, insisting that the two professionals stay in their seats, as this was a night off and they were not supposed to do anything remotely linked to work. Adil sipped at the content of his glass carefully, and was relieved to find it contained a rather harmless cocktail. Strong liquors had never been his cup of tea, and whisky now made him sick, as it reminded him too much of the glasses he had forced down _that night_ in order to gather the courage to turn on the gas. He felt his throat constrict at the thought, and tried to fight it off, determined to not let it ruin his pleasant evening. He focused on Betsey’s distinctive voice and laugh, on Sonny’s amused comments and Tom’s amazed expression. He was no longer in this place now, not tonight. He was there with his friends, and it was all that should matter. 

After a while though, Betsey, who’d been tapping her foot in rhythm with the lively music for some time, stood up and took Sonny’s hand, saying “Let’s dance!”. 

Neither Adil nor Tom moved. 

— “Oh come on, boys!” The singer exclaimed. “Don’t be shy! You’re not going to sit there all evening! We’re here to have fun! Let’s go!” 

They both declined, and Betsey finally yielded, on Sonny’s insistence that she leave them alone. The couple moved to the dancefloor, and the two colleagues remained on their own. 

They resumed chatting for a moment, but Adil had the conviction that Tom’s earlier refusal was indeed more due to his shyness than to a real reluctance to dance. He himself didn’t entertain the thought of inviting a girl, knowing that it could be interpreted as a mark of interest and an attempt at seduction. He didn’t want to give a false impression. Adil was not vain, but he knew from experience that women could consider him good-looking as well as men – at least those who were not rebuked by his dark skin or short stature. This could only lead to false hopes that he didn’t wish to raise. It didn’t mean that Tom should deprive himself from the pleasure of dancing, when he had none of those issues to take into account. Just as Adil was wondering how he could convince him to take a chance and go ask some girl, he noticed something that made him smile. It could be the solution he was looking for. 

— “This girl is looking at you,” he remarked, discreetly gesturing to their right. A blonde girl was indeed staring rather intently at his friend.

Tom glanced in that direction and quickly turned back to Adil, cheeks red. Apparently, the looks of his admirer were not leaving him cold. _Good_. 

— “No way,” Tom said. “She must be looking at you.” 

— “No, she’s not,” Adil replied. “She’s definitely looking at you. You should go and invite her to dance.” 

Tom bit his lip, unsure. 

— “You think so?” 

— “Of course. I’m sure she’d be delighted.” 

— “But…what about you? Are you going to dance too?” 

— “Maybe later,” Adil said with a soft smile. “But go, don’t mind me.” 

— “Are you sure?” 

— “Yes, I’m sure! Now don’t keep the lady waiting.” 

Tom took a deep breath and stood up, self-consciously readjusting his clothes and running a hand through his hair. Adil thought it rather sweet. He watched his colleague make his way to the girl’s table and saw his relieved and happy expression when she agreed to dance. Tom shot him a grateful look as his partner took him – rather than the other way around – to the dancefloor. 

Adil was glad for his intuition, but he soon realized he was going to get bored rather quickly now that he had no one to talk to. He liked observing people, but he had hoped for something a little more festive tonight. Being left to his own devices also meant having more time to _think_ , and he wanted to avoid that as much as possible. 

He was starting to wonder whether agreeing to come to this club had been such a good idea when a young coloured woman – from her skin tone and general physique, Adil thought she was probably mixed-race, half-white, half-black ‒ came to ask him rather shyly if he would like to dance. 

Adil hesitated for a moment. He didn’t want to offend her by refusing, and after all, why should he? He did like to dance, even though he rarely had the opportunity to do so. It would be stupid to miss this occasion, just because his prospective partner was a girl. She had invited him first, so at least he could not be blamed for making a move. He was very tempted to accept. But it was a very long time since he had really practiced dancing in the European way. At the wedding, the dances had been traditional Indian ones. Adil had danced with Toby a couple of times, to radio music in the intimacy of the hotel room, but due to the reduced space, need for discretion, and Toby’s endearing but still crippling lack of any sense of rhythm, those dances had been rather short, messy, and not really fit for this kind of club. 

— “I don’t really know how to swing,” he warned. 

— “Oh, it’s alright. I’m not that good either,” the girl assured him with a smile. “Besides, people here are just doing whatever they want.” 

Adil realized that she was right. Some couples were obviously really good swingers, pulling off impressive performances, but most of those were dancing on the stage, one level up from the rest of the room and closer to the band. 

The others, in various states of intoxication, were dancing their hearts out on the floor, moving wildly and not seeming to care much about what steps they were doing. 

— “Alright then,” Adil said, chuckling. “I think I can handle this.” 

— “Wonderful! My friend brought me here and then seemed to forget all about me,” the young woman said, sounding grateful. “I really don’t want to spend all night waiting for her to come back.” 

— “That’s rough,” Adil commented in sympathy. “My friends left me too, but at least they asked me if it was fine with me first. I’d be glad to help.” 

— “Thank you! I’m Dinah, by the way,” the girl said. 

— “Adil. Nice to meet you, Dinah.” 

She smiled, and he escorted her to the dance floor, where he spotted Sonny and Betsey and Tom and the blond girl. The singer and pianist grinned at him, Betsey blowing him a kiss. Tom didn’t notice him: he looked very concentrated on his steps, probably doing his best not to crush his partner’s toes, although she did seem to be enjoying herself anyway. 

A new song was starting. Adil manoeuvred to get himself and Dinah in place without bumping into any of the wilder couples. 

At first, the feeling of a woman’s body in his arms felt strange, but he reminded himself of the few times Priya and him had practiced dancing like that, and he relaxed. He had a good sense of rhythm, and he had observed the dancers at the Halcyon and the clubs he used to work at often enough to get the gist of it. Soon they found themselves moving to the music in earnest, and Adil thought they were doing a fairly decent job. He felt a twinge of guilt thinking about what Toby would say if he saw him dancing with a girl, but he pushed it away. What Toby didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. 

They danced to several songs in a row, and Adil really enjoyed it. He appreciated the fact that Dinah didn’t try to initiate any close contacts that were not requested by the dance. She looked to be having fun too, and her laugh was pretty contagious. At last she asked for a break, and they both got back to Adil’s table, flushed and breathless. 

— “I’m so out of practice,” Dinah lamented as they sat. 

— “Tell me about it,” Adil replied. “Oh, do you want anything to drink? I can go get us something if you’d like.” 

Old habits died hard. 

— “Oh yes, that would be nice! Anything fresh with some ice will do! Nothing too strong, though…I’m a lightweight! I hope I can trust you not to try and get me drunk.” 

— “Yes, I’m pretty sure you can trust me on that,” Adil replied. “Although I wouldn’t tell you if I was planning that anyway.” 

— “Well, I’ll just have to trust my instinct then. I don’t think you’re that kind of man.” 

_You don’t say_ , Adil thought. 

He got them two glasses of Perrier and lemon on ice, not planning to get intoxicated himself. Dinah unsurprisingly approved of his choice and they sipped at their drinks while chatting. 

Adil was reassured about any potential misunderstanding between them when Dinah started talking about her fiancé, who was fighting on the front line. She pulled a picture out of her purse to show it to him. Adil had been kind of expecting a coloured man, but the young soldier on the photograph was undoubtedly white. 

— “It’s not easy,” Dinah said, reading Adil’s thoughts. “I told him he could tell the other men that I was his girlfriend, not his fiancée, if they saw him looking at my picture, but he said he would never do that.” 

Her tone was a mix of pride and worry.

“That’s why I like it here,” she added, gesturing to their surroundings. “No one seems to care about your partner’s skin colour.”

_I bet at lot of them still care about your partner’s gender, though_ , Adil thought bitterly. 

He caught a glimpse of Sonny and Betsey, wrapped up in each other’s arms, and felt bad for his sourness. 

—“Yes,” he approved softly. “It is nice.” 

— “What about you?” Dinah predictably asked. “Do you have someone?” 

— “Yes,” Adil answered. “It’s…complicated.” 

— “Coloured or white?” 

— “White,” Adil replied. 

Dinah grimaced. 

— “I get it,” she said. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

— “I’d rather not,” Adil retorted honestly. “I came here to relax, and talking about that won’t help.” 

— “Oh, I’m sorry. I won’t say a word about it again, I swear!” 

She looked genuinely worried that she had upset him, and he quickly reassured her. 

— “It’s fine, don’t worry. I just don’t feel like talking about it right now. But you can tell me more about your fiancé if you want. How did you two meet?” 

Dinah didn’t need to be told twice. She was obviously pleased to talk about Eugene, and relieved to have someone with whom to share her anxiety about the dangers he was currently facing. 

— “I’m sure he’ll be alright,” Adil said, wishing he could _actually_ be sure. 

Dinah seemed to appreciate the thought nonetheless. 

The conversation turned to other things as they discovered more details about each other. Upon learning that Adil was a bartender, Dinah decided to test him by making him tell her the composition of various drinks on the menu without looking at it.

It would have been annoying with a client, or even with any average person, but Dinah was so nice that Adil indulged her, feeling secretly pleased when she praised his faultless knowledge. 

— “Oh, look!” She suddenly said, chuckling. 

She was pointing to the bar, and Adil snorted in amusement when he saw what had attracted her attention. 

A very tipsy-looking Betsey had endeavoured to climb on the counter top – what was it with Betsey and counter tops? ‒ and Sonny was visibly trying to talk her out of it.   
Several other clients were looking at them, laughing, and even the bartenders seemed more amused than annoyed. They surely had seen much wilder and weirder behaviours from drunken patrons before. 

— “They’re your friends, right?” Dinah said, looking back at Adil. “I saw them at your table earlier.” 

— “Right now, I will deny having any connections to them,” Adil replied slyly. 

Dinah laughed. 

Sonny caught Adil’s stare and threw him a pleading look, gesturing towards his girlfriend in a way that meant “let’s get her out of here before she hurts herself or breaks something”. 

— “I think that’s my cue to leave,” Adil regretfully told Dinah. 

He felt bad for leaving her alone, but she gestured towards a table where another young woman, with flamboyant red hair and freckles, was laughing and talking animatedly with two men. If her constant off-key laugh and too-loud voice were any indication, she looked well into her cups. 

— “Seems like my friend is back,” Dinah said, rolling her eyes. “I’d better go save her from making a fool of herself…or worse. It’s getting late anyway.” 

— “Maybe we could all leave together?” Adil offered, concerned about the rather predatory way with which one of the men was putting his arm around Dinah’s drunk friend while trading knowing looks with his acolyte. “These two don’t look ready to let your friend go.” 

— “That would be great, thank you!” The young woman accepted gratefully, looking relieved. 

With Dinah in tow, Adil quickly made his way towards Sonny and Betsey and helped him steer her away from the bar. He explained the situation to him and the pianist immediately approved of his initiative. They looked for Tom, who had apparently hit it off with his blond dancing partner and seemed very reluctant to leave, until the girl whispered something in the shell of his ear that made him blush. 

— “Al…alright,” he said. “I’m…we’re coming.” 

He followed them, the girl’s hand firmly gripping his own, and they all made their way towards Dinah’s friend and her two overzealous suitors. 

Adil was glad not to be alone. He really hoped this wouldn’t turn into a fight, but if it did, the presence of the two other men would come in handy. He wasn’t sure Tom could hold his own in a brawl, but Sonny definitely did. 

Luckily, things didn’t get that far. The two men tried to joke it off, then protested and grumbled, but finally gave up and left the table to lose themselves in the crowd. Adil hoped they weren’t going to find another prey. 

— “Come on now, Effie,” Dinah said firmly. “It’s time to go home!” 

Her friend had seemed confused as to why her two companions had left, but she didn’t object when Dinah grabbed her hand to get her to stand up. When she saw Adil – the only apparently free male of the group – she started fawning all over him, even wrapping her arms around him and trying to run a hand through his hair. 

Adil repressed an annoyed sigh. He was used to drunk people, and to drunk women trying to be seductive too. But he really could have done without it tonight. 

Dinah shot him a regretful look, mouthing “sorry” at him before pulling her friend away.

— “Stop that, Effie!” She scolded. “Leave Adil alone!” 

The group finally left the club, hobbling along into the street. 

Tom and his blond companion – Dorothy, as she was apparently named – left them to go on their own way, Tom throwing them a few words of apology before being yanked away by the rather domineering young woman. Betsey wolf-whistled at their retreating backs. 

Adil was glad for Tom. There was no harm in having some fun. He just hoped his colleague would be in a fit state and on time for his shift the next day. Mr Garland may be a good employer and a tolerant man, but there were limits to his leniency.

Dinah took her leave next, warmly thanking Adil and Sonny for their kindness. 

— “I was glad to meet you,” she told the barman with a smile. “I had such a nice evening thanks to you!” 

— “So did I,” Adil answered sincerely. 

— “I hope we’ll meet again!” The young woman said. “But don’t worry, next time, Effie won’t be there,” she added in a whisper. “I’m never going out with her again!” 

Adil chuckled, and assured her he would be happy to see her again if they paths crossed. 

Adil and Sonny made sure the two girls were safely tucked into a cab before hailing themselves one. They could have done without the fee, but they didn’t feel like walking, even just to the nearest underground station. Betsey was not steady on her legs, and the risk of bumping into a bunch of drunk racists in search of a punching-ball was too big. The two men didn’t share their thoughts aloud, but the look they exchanged said it all. 

— “Adil, do you want to spend the night at our place?” Sonny offered. “It’s closer, and that way you won’t have to pay for the extra miles.” 

— “I don’t want to disturb you,” Adil answered, although he felt really tempted to accept. He could go back to his own place in the morning to make himself presentable and get to the hotel on time for his shift, and he really didn’t fancy going back to sleep alone in his gloomy little lodgings. 

— “You won’t,” Sonny assured. “We’d be glad to have you over. If you don’t mind the mess, and if you’re fine sleeping on an old couch, that is.” 

— “Couch’s fine,” Betsey protested, slumped over Sonny’s shoulder. “Did plenty of fun things on that couch…”

— “Betsey, that’s too much information,” Sonny grimaced. “The coverlet is clean,” he hurriedly added for Adil’s benefit. 

The barman chuckled. 

— “I’ll take your word on this,” he replied. “Thank you very much, Sonny.” 

— “You’re welcome,” the pianist replied with a smile. 

They arrived at their destination and paid the cabbie, who sniffled and counted the money twice before deeming himself satisfied. He had looked none too pleased at having to drive coloured passengers, but at least he had actually taken them where they needed to go, instead of refusing them or leaving them stranded halfway and asking for full fare – Adil had experienced the first case and Sonny, both. 

The rooms the two artists shared were on the fourth floor, with no lift. Sonny manoeuvred tipsy-Betsey with great care, finally scooping her up in his arms to take her up the stairs. 

— “Love you,” Betsey slurred, throwing her arms around his neck and trying to kiss him (her aim was not very precise, so the kiss ended on Sonny’s chin instead of his lips). “Love you very, very much!” 

— “I love you too, Bee,” the pianist answered with a laugh that couldn’t hide the vibrant affection in his voice. 

Adil felt envious of him, of them. He knew they still had to be careful and couldn’t be as open about their relationship as any other couple. Public displays of affection between a white woman and a black man were not seen with a benevolent eye by everyone, far from it. Not to mention the fact that Betsey was lusted after by many men, and the thought of her preferring a coloured lover seemed to be considered an additional offense by some of those she rejected. It was hardly an ideal situation; but still, they were not forced to hide from everyone for fear of getting thrown into jail. They could open up to their friends, those they knew for sure had no problem with Sonny’s skin colour. They knew, because racism was based on something visible. Adil also knew when people were bothered by his appearance or not. He couldn’t say the same about his other difference. The one that wasn’t so easy to see. He wanted to believe that none of them would care: neither Betsey, nor Sonny or Tom, or this Dinah he had spent such a nice time with, or Mr Garland who had given him his chance in spite of his race, because he believed in his abilities. He wanted to, but he couldn’t know for sure, unless he told them. And he couldn’t tell them, unless he knew for sure. It was an endless circle. Adil pushed the thought away, focusing on making his way up the narrow stairway. He was used to it in his own building, but he had to admire Sonny’s sure step while carrying Betsey. They finally got there, and Sonny put Betsey down to open the door. 

The little flat was predictably unkempt, but the bohemian atmosphere gave it a warm, welcoming quality. Sonny’s precious trumpet was stored against the wall, and Betsey’s clothes and jewellery were scattered here and there. There were heaps of scores on the floor, a phonograph in a corner, a postcard of Jamaica nailed on a wall along with a red, black and green flag (The Black Liberation Flag, Adil remembered from a conversation with Sonny), an old Japanese-style screen, and a small dressing table with various make-up products, scent bottles, a brush and curling irons. It was a perfect mix of Sonny and Betsey. At first, Adil felt awkward, like he was an intruder in their little nest, but he soon grew strangely comfortable, as though he had been plunged into a relaxing hot bath.

Even though she was still mostly able to walk, albeit not in a straight line, Sonny had taken Betsey in his arms again, carrying her bridal-style over the threshold. He deposited his precious load on the bed behind the Japanese screen before turning back to Adil. 

— “So, that’s it,” he said. That’s home. 

It was a “home” indeed. 

— “It is wonderful,” Adil said sincerely. 

Sonny looked a bit surprised at his praise, probably thinking it a bit excessive, but he didn’t say anything.

— “So, the bathroom’s here,” he indicated, opening a door on their right. “Just make yourself at home. There’s coffee and bread and apples in the cupboard if you want to eat something in the morning. Or even now. Take whatever you want.”

— “I’m fine,” Adil smiled. “Thank you.”

Sonny changed into his pyjamas and washed up quickly. Adil just stripped down to his undershirt and took off his shoes and socks, not feeling quite at ease enough to take off his trousers, even though Betsey couldn’t see him – not that she would have been shocked, but he was already feeling very self-conscious as it was. His mother would have been horrified at the very thought of him being in this state of undress in the vicinity of a woman – a very scandalous woman who was sharing a man’s bed without being married, at that. But of course, that would have been the least of her concerns, had she known that Adil himself often shared another man’s bed and did all sorts of improper things with him. 

— “Do you have everything you need, Adil?” Sonny asked, stirring him out of his thoughts. 

— “Yes,” Adil answered. “I’m all good, thank you.” 

— “Alright, goodnight then!” 

— “’night, ‘dil” rose Betsey’s sleepy voice from behind the screen. 

— “Goodnight,” Adil answered, chuckling.

Sonny rolled his eyes fondly and went to join his girlfriend. 

Adil washed up as best he could, not having a toothbrush or anything with him, then lay down on the couch, pulling over himself a blanket Sonny had taken out of a cupboard.

As he was about to close his eyes, he couldn’t help wondering what a mix between him and Toby would look like in a flat. He also realized that it had been a long time since he had last gone to sleep without kissing Toby goodnight. He missed it now. He wondered if Toby was in bed and missed it too. 

The dark voice in his mind told him he probably didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First appearance of Sonny and Betsey haha my other Halcyon babies I love them so much! I hope you liked my take on them !   
> I read somewhere that Sonny had a jamaican accent, so I went with that, but I really don't know. What do you guys think? Was it confirmed officially somewhere? 
> 
> Comments and kudos make my day ! <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woosh, I don't really know what to feel about this monster of a chapter...
> 
> I hope you'll like it anyway.
> 
> I advise you to go read the end notes when you'll see asterisks in the dialogue (*, ** and ***)
> 
> Warning for sexual content (towards the end). 
> 
> If any of you are reading and enjoying this fic but never commented, I would really appreciate your saying hi in the comments this time ! You have no idea how important it is ! <3 Thanks a million ! And if you're not enjoying it, you're very welcome to tell me so in the comments as well, as long as it's constructive :D

Toby had been dreading this dinner ever since it had been planned. Of course, he had accepted Alistair’s invitation. He couldn’t find any excuse to say no, after his poorly-convincing “I wouldn’t want to impose” and “But won’t your aunt and uncle want to have you for themselves?” had been dismissed. But Alistair, being Alistair, had noticed Toby’s reluctance and managed to make him tell him the reason for it: Toby was scared of making a bad impression and ruining dinner with his patented awkwardness around strangers. He didn’t want to embarrass Alistair in front of his relatives. 

— “My dear Toby, you have nothing to fear on that account. I can assure you my aunt and uncle are going to enjoy your company just fine. They are very curious to meet the friend I speak so much about (Toby had blushed at that) and, believe me, they are quite open-minded people, who are very aware of their own shortcomings and quirks and would not dream of mocking or judging anyone’s social awkwardness. Surely you know me enough by now to know that I would not want to put you in an uncomfortable position?” 

And so Toby had relented, trusting Alistair once more. He had had no cause to be sorry for it, as dinner had gone fairly well indeed. 

The blood ties between Alistair and his aunt Eleanor were unmistakable. She was a tall, slender woman with long, graceful fingers and perfectly coiffed raven-black hair barely touched by the frost of aging. She was dressed with elegance and a bit of eccentricity – which, as Toby came to discover, was one of the main traits of her personality. Her conversation was rather difficult to follow, as she seemed to jump from one idea to the other and asked questions without always waiting for the answer. After a moment of panic, Toby remembered the warning Alistair had given him beforehand and stopped caring whether their exchanges were actually making sense or not. He almost felt like he had stepped inside Lewis Carroll’s _Through the Looking Glass_. 

Her husband could not have been more different. Mr James Blagden was a stout gentleman with sandy hair and a thick moustache, who looked like an older, heavier version of his son Henry. He was the one Toby had been the most afraid of, knowing he would likely not have much common ground to tread on with him. But he discovered quickly that the man was, if not very cultivated himself, at least very curious about a variety of topics, and very honest about his desire to acquire more refined taste. Toby felt ashamed of having judged the book by its cover. 

After dessert, Alistair told him that his uncle was an avid chess player, and suggested a game between the two of them. Mr Blagden was delighted and immediately asked Toby to do him the honour. 

Toby agreed, and was soon faced with a dilemma: should he let his host win, or just play badly enough to prolong the game for a while? It was clear that he was the better player; but it didn’t seem very courteous to let it show so flagrantly. After a while though, Mr Blagden saved him the trouble. He pushed the board away from him and laughed. 

— “Alistair, my boy, I think you’ve set us both a trap. You didn’t tell me that Toby was such a capital chess player. He deserves a more worthy adversary – and I deserve a chance to win at least one game fair and square!” 

Toby flushed bright red, and Alistair looked a bit embarrassed too – a rather foreign expression on his face. 

— “Well I wouldn’t know…I am not much of a player myself, so…”

The awkwardness of the moment was soon dissipated, though, and Mr Blagden asked Toby where he had learned to play, who were his usual adversaries, and asked for a few tips his guest gave him as best he could. 

— "Now that I think of it, I should have known that you wouldn’t make much of your chess playing talent,” Alistair murmured, leaning towards him when his uncle finally went to put the board away. “It seems to be a habit of yours…so many talents and so much modesty. I wonder if I will ever discover the true range of your abilities?”  
Toby’s blush accentuated. Maybe it was Alistair’s sudden physical proximity, or his low voice, but the compliment seemed to have a double entendre. 

— “I really don’t think there is much more to discover,” he answered. 

Alistair merely smiled and changed the subject, leaving Toby rather puzzled. 

The conversation turned to music; Toby had spotted the piano as soon as he had entered the room, and he politely asked whether it was Mrs Blagden who played. 

— “Yes,” she said with a smile. “Alistair told me you are a piano amateur, would you like to hear something?” 

— “With pleasure,” Toby answered sincerely. 

His hostess sat at the instrument and started playing what Toby thought was Tchaikovsky’s _Waltz of the flowers_.

She was definitely a good musician, and Toby instantly found himself entranced. 

He felt Alistair’s gaze on him, and the man smiled softly when their eyes met. 

Mrs Blagden played a couple of other pieces, even singing prettily with one of them, and then called on her nephew. 

— “Alistair darling, come here! Let’s play a duet!”

Alistair started by refusing, saying that he was fine listening and would make a mess of it. 

— “You know that you and Mother are the gifted ones,” he said. “And she passed it all on to Helena, not leaving much musical talent for me.” 

— “Nonsense,” Eleanor replied. “Your darling sister was indeed a brilliant musician, much more so than your mama and I ever could be… the poor thing. But you are much better than you are saying. Come on, dear!”

Alistair sighed and gestured at Toby in a fatalistic way before joining his aunt. They played a four-handed piece and it was clear that Alistair had indeed been too modest. Toby applauded earnestly when the little recital was finished and thanked the musicians for their kindness. 

— “So much for downplaying one’s talent,” he told Alistair with a smirk. “Apparently I’m not the only one guilty as charged!” 

— “Well I’m glad you think so,” Alistair replied. 

The deep blue stare was becoming familiar by now, but Toby still didn’t know how to react to it, except by lowering his own gaze. 

The conversation resumed for a while after the musical interlude, but in spite of the pleasant atmosphere and his genuine interest in most of the topics they were discussing, Toby soon felt tiredness get the better of him. He had a week’s worth of stressing work behind him and his useless but very real anxiety over dinner had also taken a toll on him. Luckily Mrs Blagden soon got up, announcing she was retiring for the night, and Toby asked for permission to do the same. The other two men agreed that it was time to get some rest, and they wished each other good night.

The guest room – which Toby had already seen upon his arrival, having had to dress up for dinner – was tastefully furnished and quite welcoming, and the bed was perfectly comfortable, but Toby had some trouble falling asleep. He missed Adil. He had not seen him since breakfast, early that morning, and it seemed very far away now. He knew it was stupid to crave his lover’s presence in this way, as though they had been separated for several days; but he couldn’t help it. It felt like his day couldn’t be complete without wishing Adil goodnight and tasting his sweet lips for what was often the first and only time of the day (since Adil did not always have the opportunity to discreetly go up to Toby’s room before the start of his morning shift, and it was always very risky for them to meet in the wine cellar.) Even though Adil could rarely stay by his side for long, his kiss was the lucky charm Toby needed to fall asleep peacefully. He tossed and turned in the unfamiliar bed for a while, wondering what his lover was doing, and how he was feeling, and whether he was thinking about him too.

***

At breakfast, the phone rang and the servant went to pick it up, coming into the room to announce that a friend of Mr St-John’s wanted to talk to him. 

— “I’ll take it, thank you Johnson,” Alistair replied, standing up. 

He reappeared after a few minutes, looking half-hesitant, half-hopeful. 

— “Toby…an Oxford friend of mine and his wife are organising a little impromptu gathering with a couple other friends at their place here in London. I told them I was currently with you and they told me they would be happy to invite us both. So I was wondering…would you like to come with me?” 

— “You…you mean today?” Toby stammered. 

As pleasant as yesterday’s dinner had been, it had still been tiring for Toby. Making the effort to come out of his protective shell and take a chance at socialization, interacting with several people for several hours in a foreign environment, as friendly as these people could be…it was always a real trial for him, even though it came naturally to others. Neither his mother nor Freddie – not to mention his father, who had done everything in his power to make this trial as excruciating as possible – had ever understood that. Only Adil had accepted it without judging him or trying to force him to overcome it. He just did all he could to help, support and encourage him. And it was slowly getting easier. It was surprisingly easy with Alistair – but he was the exception that confirmed the rule. Toby was quite sure he had done enough socializing for at least a few days. 

— “Yes, today around two o’clock,” Alistair answered expectantly. 

— “Oh, I…I’m not sure I can…”

An Oxonian friend and his wife. A married couple. And other friends. Probably all Alistair’s age, and all intellectuals and academics, as poised and articulate as he was. The pressure to be interesting and confident and charming would be even stronger than it had been with Alistair’s middle-aged uncle and aunt. And even though Toby was himself an academic and an intellectual, he knew he didn’t necessarily fit into this kind of microcosm, used as he had been to keeping to himself instead of mingling with his peers. He was aware of how judgmental this kind of people could be, especially in groups. 

_They’re Alistair’s friends, he tried to reason. They cannot be that awful._

But Alistair was handsome, elegant and witty, and he gave his opinion freely and effortlessly on any given topic without ever seeming to ramble. He was a perfect social animal in Toby’s eyes. His peers were bound to appreciate him, admire him and be friendly to him. It didn’t mean they would have any indulgence for Toby. 

— “Please,” Alistair said earnestly. “I would really love to introduce you to them. They are avid readers and debaters, passionate about their pursuits. We could have such a nice time!”

— “I’m sure,” Toby replied, “but…but I…”

— “We don’t have to stay long if you do not want to,” Alistair said. “We could leave whenever you like.” 

— “But what about you? I cannot make you leave your friends early…I could leave and go home on my own, but wouldn’t that be rather rude?” 

— “I don’t mind leaving early for your sake,” Alistair assured. “And I’m certainly not going to drag you there and then leave you on your own. Now that would be the rudest thing of all. Please don’t say a word about it. I’ll talk to my friends, and they won’t think anything of it, I assure you.” 

Toby opened his mouth, looking for another argument, but none came. 

— “Well, I’ll have to call my mother to let her know I’m going to be home later than planned,” he finally said. 

— “Of course,” Mr Blagden intervened. “Please make any phone call you need!”

Alistair’s smile was radiant. 

Toby had to repress a sigh of annoyance when his mother asked whether there would be well-born girls at the gathering, and recommended him to be as amiable and charming as possible if there were. 

He hung up a little more briskly than was necessary. He hoped that at least his mother would be excited enough about the potential prospects of the event to mention it in front of some guests, so that Adil had a chance of hearing about it and knowing that he would not be home early. He wished he could call him personally. It would be so much more practical, and such a comfort to hear his voice even when they were separated! And frankly, Toby could have done with a little pep talk right now.

After breakfast, Alistair took him to explore the house’s library, which was small but well-stocked, and Toby managed to relax a bit until lunch time. 

Two o’clock seemed to come much faster than normal, though, and when they found themselves in front of Alistair’s friends’ flat, Toby had to remind himself to take deep breaths. 

He felt Alistair move closer to him, and murmur, his voice soft and reassuring:

— “Toby, I promise. The moment you feel uncomfortable, we’ll leave.” 

Toby smiled weakly at him in gratitude and braced himself for the moment the door would open. 

A good-looking ash-blond man, about Alistair’s age, welcomed them on the threshold. Rather than shake Alistair’s hand, he wrapped him in a brief but tight embrace.

— “It’s good to see you,” he said. 

— “Likewise, my friend,” Alistair answered. 

Toby had never hugged any man, apart from Adil and Freddie. His brother hugged his fellow pilots from time to time, but it didn’t look as soft and intimate.

The two friends parted, and the man turned to Toby with a smile.

— “I’m Julian Ashford,” he introduced himself, reaching for Toby’s hand to shake. “And this is my wife Edna. Very pleased to meet you, Mr Hamilton.” 

A pretty blond woman, daringly dressed in trousers, stepped forward, smiling as well, and shook Toby’s hand in turn. 

— “Welcome to our home,” she added. 

— “Thank you for having me,” Toby answered a bit stiffly. 

— “A pleasure,” she assured. “Alistair’s friends are ours.” 

She threw a warm glance at Alistair who took her hand and kissed it, but in a familiar, affectionate way that spoke of years of complicity rather that reflected any formal ceremony. 

— “Thank you, dear,” he said. 

They followed the couple to the living-room were two other men were waiting. 

The first one looked a bit older than the rest of them – probably about thirty. He was more heavily built than they were, too, and much less handsome, though when he looked at Toby, his deeply set green eyes did have a certain charm, and his face breathed with sensitivity and intelligence. He was sat on a chair and didn’t get up when they approached. 

— “Donald Guilroy,” he said. “Please forgive me for not standing up: I have a crooked leg.” 

That was direct, and Toby couldn’t stop his eyes from dropping to the man’s legs. The left one did seem much thinner than the right one, under the fabric of his trousers, and the foot didn’t quite touch the floor, but it was all he could see. He felt immediately guilty for prying. 

— “I’m Toby Hamilton,” he said a bit hoarsely, quickly reaching for the man’s outstretched hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr Guilroy.”

— “Pleasure is mine,” Guilroy answered. His voice was serene, and he was looking at Toby with a benevolent expression, not at all seeming to mind his misplaced curiosity. Toby let out a silent sigh of relief. 

A younger man was standing up next to Guilroy’s chair, arm draped nonchalantly over the headrest. He had curly brown hair, black eyes, and sharply-drawn features, with full lips. His suit didn’t look to be fitting him; where Toby’s own clothes tended to hang too loosely, the man’s jacket and vest seemed reading to burst at the seams, not due to an excess of weight but to sheer muscular bulk. He was not particularly tall or broad-shouldered, but seemed to exude strength much like a feline did. Most people would have probably described him as attractive, in an uncouth, animalistic way. But something about him made him look unpleasant in Toby’s eyes. 

— “George Chapman,” he said boldly, grasping Toby’s hand and keeping it clutched in a tad too tight grasp. “Seems like I was right to come…it’s nice to see some fresh blood around here.” 

His accent surprised Toby: unlike the others, his pronunciation was clearly working-class. Toby had to make an effort not to yank his hand out of the man’s grip. He didn’t at all like the way he was looking at him. 

— “Toby Hamilton,” he said, not bringing himself to add a ‘nice to meet you’. 

The man chuckled and released his hand before looking at Alistair, who noticeably frowned upon seeing him, only grudgingly responding to his handshake. Chapman didn’t seem to care at all. Toby even thought he saw him smirk. 

The visible tension was diluted by the arrival of two other guests – apparently the last ones who were expected – in the person of James and Millicent Harding, who, as Toby found out, were not man and wife but brother and sister. Millicent (or “Millie” as everyone was calling her) was a porcelain-skinned brunette whose sophisticated beauty reminded Toby of actresses like Greta Garbo. Her brother was more common-looking, with a round face and a receding hairline. 

During the following round of greetings, Toby noticed Alistair and their hosts were having a private chat in a corner of the room. 

— "What is _he_ doing here?" He heard Alistair hiss. 

— “Donald just showed up at the door with him, what were we supposed to do? Leave him out?” Edna replied in the same hushed, annoyed voice. “You know how Donald gets…”

Alistair let out a frustrated sigh. 

— “Is there something wrong?” Toby asked when the man was back at his side. 

Alistair smiled, although the expression seemed a bit delayed, and shook his head. 

— “It’s nothing, don’t worry,” he assured. “Our friend George is a bit too forward in his manners sometimes, and of a rather… brazen nature. Please don’t mind anything he might say.”

Toby wanted to question Alistair further, but they were interrupted by their hostess who wanted to know what they would like to drink. 

Once they were all settled in the living-room with their glasses, discussions started properly. Toby miraculously managed not to make a bumbling fool of himself answering the other guests’ questions about his pursuits. They were tactful enough not to ask for particulars when he said that he was currently working “for the government”. James Harding, an astronomer and the only other scientist in the room, was particularly interested in his mathematical research work, and they would have tackled the subject in earnest on the spot if not for Edna Ashford’s good-natured reminder that they should probably wait until all the introductions were done.

Harding’s sister, Millicent, was a theatre actress (Toby was surprised how accurate his first impression of her had been) who also happened to write plays and poems; the Ashfords were both literature researchers, and to his delight, Toby discovered that Donald Guilroy was an Egyptologist. 

This field of study had always fascinated Toby, and his thirst for knowledge soon supplanted his shyness and his fear of making a wrong impression. As soon as was suitable, he started asking him questions about everything from the architectural properties of Egyptian tombs and their potential link with astronomical phenomena (a subject to which James Harding contributed some invaluable input), to the complexities of funerary rituals and the meaning of hieroglyphic inscriptions. Guilroy was very patient with him, explaining everything in as many details as he could and even praising Toby’s knowledge of the subject, nourished by years of compulsive reading. Toby greatly admired the man’s cane handle, a replica of a sculpted jackal head representing the God of death, Anubis, and the ring he was wearing – an authentic amulet adjusted to a modern golden ring – representing the sacred scarab, Khepri, pushing the solar disc in front of him, a symbol of eternal life.

Toby was transported very far away from London and the present day, and he would have been fully enjoying it if it hadn’t been for George Chapman’s presence. The man didn’t contribute much to the conversation, other than some crude retort from time to time, and when he wasn’t leaning on Guilroy’s chair, he was pacing along the room, picking up ornaments on the chimney mantel or the consoles to examine them before putting them back in place. It was the rudest behaviour Toby had ever witnessed. None of the other guests seemed to be paying any attention to him, as though they were used to it. From Edna Ashford’s hushed comments earlier and their constant physical proximity, Toby had deduced that Chapman must be some kind of aid to Guilroy; but his behaviour was much too familiar for a servant, and Guilroy’s attitude towards him didn’t fit in a master-servant relationship either. 

Toby forced himself to ignore the man, and it wasn’t that difficult considering the number of interesting conversations happening at the same time. Toby was spoilt for choice, between mathematics and their use in the prediction of astronomical phenomena with James Harding, the reinterpretation of Greek myths with Julian Ashford, and modern literature and English authoresses with Edna Ashford and Millie, who read aloud passages from Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackville-West novels, as well as some of Millie’s own creations, which Toby found impressively good. They also talked about politics, travels, and whatever the subject, Toby noticed that the women were participating in the conversation just as much as the men, even though they were outnumbered. Toby didn’t hear one condescending remark from their male counterparts, and it was rather refreshing. 

The men dropped the “Mr” in front of Toby’s last name rather quickly, as they would have done in a college circle, and it took a moment for him to stop expecting Freddie to answer when someone said something like “Hamilton, what do you think of this?” or “Hamilton, have you heard of that?”; here, he wasn’t “Hamilton minor”, the other twin, the disposable one, the weird fellow whose presence was tolerated but not really wanted. He was a guest in his own right, and his contribution to the conversation seemed to be actually valued by everyone. Toby thought he could get used to that. 

He was starting to think things couldn’t get any better when George Chapman suddenly took advantage of a lull in the conversation, as their hostess was offering a second round of drinks, and asked, loud enough to be heard by everyone:

— “So, Toby, how do you feel about playing backgammon*?” 

— “George…” Alistair said in a warning tone. 

— “Well, I tend to prefer chess,” Toby answered, nonplussed. 

— “’I tend to prefer chess’! Oh my! He’s so adorable!” The man giggled. “That’s one fine chicken** you’ve found here, Al!” 

— “Don’t call me Al,” Alistair replied curtly. 

George laughed. 

— “Come on, George,” Donald Guilroy intervened, reaching to touch the man’s thigh. “Please, be nice…”

— “I said he’s adorable, isn’t that nice?” George replied insolently. “I’m sure Al agrees with me, don’t you, Al?” 

Their hosts and the other guests had fallen into an awkward silence, all staring at the man with various degrees of consternation on their faces. Toby had his eyes glued to Donald’s hand, still resting on George’s leg. Guilroy must have noticed, because he withdrew it quickly. 

He cannot stand up, Toby reasoned. He would have touched his shoulder if he could. It doesn’t mean anything. 

— “How about another reading?” Edna suddenly quipped. “Would anyone like to read something?”

— “I think Toby and I will be leaving now,” Alistair replied, voice cold and controlled.

Toby was indeed more than willing to depart. He wondered how the situation had gone so quickly from profoundly satisfying to cringe-worthy.

— “Alistair, please…” Edna tried to plead. 

— “I’m sorry, Edna,” the man cut her short, shaking his head. “Thank you for having us, but we cannot stay any longer. Goodbye. Goodbye, everyone.”

Toby uttered a croaked “Goodbye” as well, knowing he ought to be polite and take his leave properly, but unable to bring himself to. He just mechanically followed Alistair as the man exited the leaving room. 

— “Don’t forget to put brandy on the dish***, Al!” George shouted at their retreating backs. “That one’ll need plenty of it!”

— “Oh for Christ’s sake, George, just shut up!” Alistair exclaimed, glaring at him over his shoulder. 

Julian Ashford quickly escorted them to the door. He looked appalled. 

— “Alistair, I swear I had no idea Donald would bring him,” he said. “Toby, I’m confused…I apologize for the inconvenience!”

— “It’s fine,” Toby replied, even though _something_ quite evidently was not. He didn’t even comprehend what had just occurred, and he was at a loss for words. “Thank you for having me…”

Ashford looked from him to Alistair, and something must have transpired between them, because their host schooled his features into a more neutral expression and said no more about the incident, merely wishing them good evening. They stepped into the street without further ado. 

— “Are you alright, Toby?” Alistair asked once they were at some distance from the flat. 

— “I…yes, I’m alright,” Toby stammered, because he _was_. Confused, unsettled, but still mostly in control of his emotions. 

— “In my defence, I didn’t think George would be there. I know how he gets!” 

— “I don’t understand…What was this all about? Why did he laugh at me preferring chess over backgammon? What did he mean by chicken and brandy?”

— “I can’t tell you. God, Toby, I’m so sorry…”

— “It is…some sort of code, isn’t it?” Toby insisted. “Words used instead of other words?” 

Alistair looked at him with pleading eyes. 

— “Yes,” he said. “It is a code…but please don’t make me tell you what it stands for. Toby…I’m asking you to trust me on this. Believe me, it is nothing more than a stupid jape, and the joke is on me, not on you.”

Toby could have asked. He could have demanded an explanation. He could have interrogated Alistair about George and Donald, and what exactly had been going on there. He could have told him what he suspected, finally putting into words all the things left unsaid between them since that day in front of the Halcyon, when Alistair had told him he wasn’t meant to be a father. He probably would have, if he had been braver. If he had been ready to finally confront this reality. But he didn’t want to risk his friendship by forcing Alistair to walk on this terrain if he was not willing to do so right now. _He_ knew he wasn’t willing to do this now. 

— “Alright,” he cravenly said. “Let’s forget it. We won’t talk about it again.” 

Alistair let out a sigh of relief. 

— “Thank you, Toby,” he said. “I promise you nothing of the sort will ever happen again. I really hope you’ll forgive this incident.” 

— “It wasn’t your fault,” Toby retorted. 

It was true. It wouldn’t be right for Alistair to blame himself for something he had no control over. As for Toby, he didn’t know what exactly he should be offended about, except that he had been the target of some private joke he didn’t get. He pushed away a wave of annoyance and hurt at the thought. After all, Alistair had assured him that the jape was much more embarrassing for him than it was for Toby. He decided to believe him. 

A heavy silence fell. It was unusual between them, and Toby didn’t like it.

— “I really had a nice time today,” he said sincerely. “Your friends are so interesting, and everyone was very kind to me… Alistair, I mean it. I’m not…I’m not used to feeling like I belong. But I did with them. And yesterday too…your uncle and aunt were so nice, and I…I really want to thank you for that.” 

Alistair looked up at him, his expression once more making Toby blush. 

— “You really have nothing to thank me for, Toby,” he said. “It was all your doing.” 

Toby didn’t agree, but he didn’t say so. 

Looking for something to divert Alistair’s attention, he was suddenly struck by an odd thought.

— “Can I ask you a silly question?” 

— “Of course,” Alistair replied – though he seemed a bit wary. “Whatever you want!” 

— “Why don’t you like to be called Al?” 

Alistair laughed, sounding clearly relieved. He had most certainly not been expecting that. 

— “Well, I happen to like my Christian name as it is, and I don’t want to see it amputated of two syllables. It is a matter of principle to me. You see, when we were children, Helena and I were very proud of both having three syllables to our first name, while Edgar and Gerald only had two. We used to write stories with characters who all had three-syllable-long names, like Leonore, Abigail, Archibald…and our mother had taken the habit of calling us “Helenalistair”, since we always were in the same room at the same time when we were both at home.” 

Toby laughed as well, marvelling at how close Alistair and his late sister seemed to have been. His memories of being that close to Freddie felt very far away. 

_At least you still have him. You have a chance to get close to him again._

— “Well, it’s the opposite for me,” he said. “I hate it when people call me Tobias. My father did…and Freddie also did it sometimes to pester me when we were children, but I took revenge by calling him Frederic for hours. He hated it too. But it was all just for fun.”

— “Tobias and Frederic both have three syllables. They’re perfectly good names in my book,” Alistair joked. “But I respect your opinion. I promise never to call you that.”  
They smiled at each other, and with that, all embarrassment seemed to die down between them. 

***

When Toby walked into the Halcyon’s bar area and sat in front of Adil at the counter, he instantly noticed that something was not quite right. 

— “Good evening, Mr Hamilton. I hope you had a pleasant day?” 

Adil’s voice was his usual smooth, practiced bartender tone. He was smiling his bartender smile, welcoming and friendly but not overly familiar. No ordinary client could have possibly detected anything unusual. But Toby was no ordinary client. He knew Adil’s real voice and Adil’s real smile, and he knew the in-between that was just for Toby, the discreet warmth that seeped through when Adil addressed him during service. He knew the special glint in Adil’s eyes, the way his lips curled up just a little bit higher than they did with other patrons. He knew all this, and it wasn’t there. What was there was some sort of wariness and distance. Cold, not warmth. And it didn’t feel right at all. 

— “It is good to be home,” he said, hoping to convey his real meaning: _It’s good to see you._

He thought he knew why Adil wasn’t pleased. He had told him he would be back by late morning, and it was now early evening. And whether or not he had got wind of Toby’s telephone call to his mother, he was probably seeing his tardiness as evidence that Toby was in no hurry to leave Alistair.

Toby bit his lip. He would try to make things clear later, when they would be alone in his room, but he wished he could find a way to dissipate Adil’s doubts immediately. He didn’t regret attending this gathering, in spite of the awkward conclusion, and yet he felt suddenly guilty for accepting to accompany his friend instead of returning directly to the hotel, once more following Alistair’s lead as though he were the Pied Piper. 

He lighted himself a cigarette and nursed his drink, anxiously waiting for the end of Adil’s shift. 

***

Toby wrapped his arms around his lover as soon as the door of his room was shut behind them. To his chagrin, he could feel a tension in Adil’s body, as though he was resisting the embrace, refusing to abandon himself to it like he usually did. Toby felt his throat tighten with something akin to panic. 

_You’ve done nothing wrong_ , he thought. _Just explain._

— “I’m sorry I was so late,” he said. “Alistair invited me to a gathering with his friends, and I…well, I said yes, and I know I probably shouldn’t have, but I…”

— “Why shouldn’t you?” Adil stopped him mid-rambling. “You had nowhere else to be. It was your day off, do you think I would force you to spend it sitting at the bar all day, watching me? It would be very selfish of me, not to mention very bad for your liver.” 

His tone was light, as if he was jesting in that playful way he did when they were together, but there again, Toby could see the difference. 

— “I love watching you all day,” he said. “You know that.” 

— “That doesn’t mean you cannot want to do other things. I’m sure Alistair’s friends are just as cultured and interesting as he is?” 

— “Yes, they are. They were very interesting, and very nice to me, but…”

— “Then you were right to go. Toby, you’re meant to meet this kind of people. You’re meant to go out there and mingle with intellectuals. This is your natural world. It would have been stupid of you to miss this opportunity. And you’re not stupid.” 

— “I am,” Toby retorted. “Often enough.” 

Adil’s eyes seemed to soften. 

— “Sometimes,” he agreed. “But not today. You took exactly the right decision.” 

— “I was ready to say no. I didn’t want to go. I was scared…”

— “I know. But you overcame it. You should be proud of yourself. I’m proud of you.” 

Adil’s voice broke ever so slightly on the last sentence, and Toby instinctively reached out for him again. This time, Adil melted into the embrace, even clutching him a little tighter than usual. 

— “I wish you’d been with me,” Toby murmured.

Adil stepped away from him, shaking his head. 

— “Even if we could be seen together…It’s not my world, Toby. You know that.” 

— “Why not? You’re intelligent, and you enjoy learning new things, and you have great social skills, and…”

— “And I would still stick out like a sore thumb. It’s a fact. There's no use sugar-coating it.” 

— “If they tolerated someone like George, they sure as hell would have no reason not to welcome someone like you,” Toby thought aloud angrily before he could stop himself. 

— “Who is George?” Adil asked, frowning. 

Toby had no choice but to tell him everything – and part of him was relieved he did not have to keep the incident to himself. If things were as he suspected…if this was some coded language for _men like them_ …maybe Adil knew what those bizarre words meant, and what it was about them that had made everyone cringe? He had not wanted to hear the truth from Alistair, but he could take it from Adil.

…

Of all the things Adil had been expecting Toby to tell him about tonight, what he had just said wasn’t one of them. 

He had gone through all sorts of feelings over the course of the day, from hope to disappointment to worry, to anger and resignation. What he had foreseen had happened. Toby wasn’t coming back. He wasn’t coming back because he had no reason to. And Adil knew it was stupid and childish and selfish to resent him for that. _What would you do, if you were him? Would you want to come back early and be stuck here with your mother and nothing to do, or stay out and spend time with someone you can actually talk to in public and have intelligent conversations and rewarding activities with?_ Rationally speaking, the choice was an easy one. Emotionally speaking, Adil knew he would still have come back early. But Adil wasn’t Toby. And Toby’s choice wasn’t wrong. 

When Toby had finally appeared in the bar area, Adil had been torn between the instinctive thrill of joy at seeing his lover and the bitterness at the thought that he had no idea what he had put him through. His self-defensive reflex told him to keep his distance and not let Toby get to him one way or the other until he had gotten a grip on his messy emotions. And it had worked just fine, until it had not, because it was Toby, and Toby _always_ managed to get to him. 

The earnestness in his voice as he said “I wish you’d been with me” had made the last barrier crumble, because Toby had no reason to say that if he didn’t mean it. Toby had lied to him before, the most chilling and cruel lies, looking him right in the eyes, but then he had a reason for it. And he would not do it again, not like this. 

And now, that. 

Those words he didn’t know the meaning of. Those words Adil could decipher, as if for once their roles were reversed, and Adil had access to a science that stayed obscure for Toby. Some science indeed. 

He could almost hear them, spoken by that unknown man Toby seemed to be so disgusted by. He could hear the accent, that accent that pointed out white people as working-class as surely as his own pointed him out as a foreigner. The stigma in the voice, that made the one who spoke less worthy of credit than another person. 

_That’s one fine chicken you’ve found here. Put brandy on the dish._

These words brought back memories of sleazy clubs and bars, of groping virtual strangers in semi-darkness, of trading furtive glances in public lavatories. These words unearthed a deeply buried past he wished would never see the light again. These words shouldn’t have had anything to do with Toby. Especially not when they were used as a seedy joke at his expense. It was disrespectful and filthy, and Adil did not like it one bit. He didn’t like the insinuation that Toby was St-John’s boy toy either. 

— “Adil? What’s wrong?” 

— “Nothing,” he lied. “I’m fine…I don’t know what it means.”

— “Oh,” Toby shrugged, though he did seem a bit disappointed. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I suppose I should just forget it. Alistair seemed so embarrassed, though…”

_Did he, now? As though the pristine gentleman’s never thought about it before…_

This George might have a filthy mouth and a lecherous temper, and Adil might not have wanted to let Toby near him with a barge pole, but at least he was straightforward. Somehow Adil felt closer to him than to all these rich and well-born intellectual hypocrites who acted all shocked in spite of the fact that they all knew the meaning of these words, and had to have picked it up somewhere not so proper, and probably in the company of men who sounded a lot like George. 

— “Are you angry with me?”

Toby’s words startled Adil out of his thoughts. His lover was looking at him with wide eyes, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. 

— “No, Toby, I’m not angry,” Adil replied. 

_Not with you anyway. Not anymore._

Toby seemed unsure. 

— “You look angry,” he said. 

— “I’m just mad this man talked about you like you were St-John’s pet,” Adil replied. 

It was as close to the truth as could be. Just incomplete. 

Something flashed in Toby’s eyes, something like shock and hurt, and Adil wondered if he had gone too far, if Toby had perhaps been so focused on the odd choice of words that he hadn’t even fully realized what impression they gave off. If he had perhaps not thought of it in those terms himself and Adil had suddenly made the slight sting much worse. 

— “I don’t care what he thinks,” he said in a low voice. “I know it’s not true. And so do you. And Alistair doesn’t think that, either. He’s not like that. He would never…” 

Adil couldn’t stand it any longer and shut him up with a kiss. 

— “Let’s not talk about him now,” he said. “Please?” 

— “Al…alright,” Toby answered. “Whatever you want…”

Adil kissed him again. 

He had not counted on Toby throwing his arms around his neck and responding so earnestly. 

— “There’s only one person I belong to,” his lover said when they broke apart for air. “And I wish I could tell everyone about it.” 

— “You don’t belong to me, Toby,” Adil forced himself to say, although his body was reacting way too strongly to the suggestion. “I don’t own you.”

— “Maybe not,” Toby breathed. “But I’m still yours.” 

Their lips met in another fiery dance, and soon Adil had Toby pressed against the wall, and was nipping and sucking his earlobe in that way he _knew_ always got him going, and the distinctive sensation of Toby’s cock hardening against him made him moan. He moved to the underside of his jaw, his Adam’s apple, and fumbled to undo his tie and shirt buttons, sighing when he could finally run his hands over the silky soft skin of Toby’s chest. He rolled one of his nipples between his fingers; Toby whimpered and bucked against him, sending a jolt of pleasure through Adil’s erect cock. 

— “Bed…now…” he uttered.

— “Are you…are you sure?” Adil asked, his fears awakening again despite the evidence. 

He didn’t want Toby to feel like he had to prove a point, like they had to make love tonight so that Adil would believe him. 

— “So sure,” Toby replied, taking Adil’s hand and pressing it over his hard cock through the fabric of his trousers.

They got naked in record time, Adil throwing his uniform away with an unusual carelessness he knew he’d probably regret later, then stumbled towards the bed, kissing, and landed upon it in a tangle of limbs. Adil had Toby pinned to the mattress, for once not caring for the fact that his admittedly light weight was fulling resting on top of him. Toby didn’t protest, just wrapping his arms around him and trying to get him move against him to provide some needed friction to their cocks, trapped as they were between their bodies. 

Adil complied, and they rocked against each other until it proved at once too much and too little. Toby fumbled to open the nightstand drawer and took out the bottle of oil, opening the vial with shaky hands before smearing some of the content over Adil’s fingers and his own. He took Adil in hand and Adil reciprocated, and Gods, was Toby a sight, and did his hand feel good around him, and his cock wonderfully hard under his own fingers, and yet it still wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. 

— “Toby, I…”

— “Yes?”

— “I want to be inside you,” Adil breathed. “Can I?” 

— “Yes,” Toby answered, and it sounded more like Adil had granted his prayer than the opposite.

They kissed, long and hot and messy, and then Toby laid back, positioning himself on the pillows, and grabbed Adil’s hand again, gently guiding one finger inside him. 

— “Toby…” Adil growled, low in his throat. 

— “I’m yours,” Toby said again, voice husky and eyes dark with desire. 

Something snapped in Adil right then, like a wave breaking down a dam, because Toby was there naked and hard and offered and _his_. His, for a moment longer. 

He started spreading him open with an impatience that made it much rougher than usual. Toby didn’t seem to mind. Quite the opposite, in fact. The little noises he was making and his half-formed encouraging words and “Adil-s” were driving Adil crazy. 

He finally coated his cock in another generous layer of oil, then grabbed Toby’s legs and pushed inside him in one smooth, single thrust. Toby gasped, eyes wide, then let his head fall back on the pillows, eyelids closing in bliss. Adil’s own eyes shut too, as all his other senses filled up with _Toby_ , _Toby_ , _Toby_ , and he let animal instinct take over, burying himself deep inside him, wrapping himself in his heat, inhaling his scent, fingers digging into his warm skin and lips devouring his neck, sucking at his pulse point like it was a lifeline.

***

When Adil landed back on earth, several deep purple love bites were flowering on Toby’s neck. There were red marks on his arms, hips and thighs, most of them faint, already starting to vanish, but some well on their way to becoming bruises. 

Adil realized he had just claimed and marked Toby like some thoughtless possessive brute. 

— “Oh Gods,” he stammered. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” 

— “What? No, of course not!” Toby replied. 

He was still lying on his back, legs spread apart, all flushed, his hair tousled, and looking utterly debauched. The wide, satisfied and slightly dazzled grin on his lips was proof enough that he was indeed fine; and yet Adil could not get over what he had just done. 

— “But…I was forceful, and I bruised you, and I…”

— “Well, I’m certainly not complaining,” Toby retorted, smiling wider. “If you ever want to try that again, be my guest!” 

— “No,” Adil said, shaking his head, eyes wide. “That’s not right! I didn’t even ask how you felt, I could have hurt you!” 

Toby frowned, sitting up with a slight wince that did nothing to ease Adil’s guilt. 

— “Hey…” he said softly, putting a hand on Adil’s shoulder and stroking it. “Adil, it’s fine! I’m fine! More than fine, actually! You didn’t hurt me, and you weren’t too forceful. It was rougher than usual, yes, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t take! I would have told you if I had been hurting. I mean, actually hurting, not just the right side of aching as I was. I promise you, I enjoyed it! A lot!” 

He softly snaked a hand along Adil’s spine and smirked. 

— “Besides, I’m pretty sure I badly clawed at your back at one point…oh, that’s probably when I was about to come all over you. Because I did, in case you didn’t notice.”

Now that Toby was mentioning it, Adil did notice evidence of that – and yes, his back did hurt quite a bit. 

— “So?” Toby asked teasingly. “Can we call it quits?” 

Adil finally smiled, allowing his body to relax into contentment again, now that he was sure that Toby was neither hurt nor scared by his sudden impetuousness – even though he knew they should probably address the reason why he had been so eager in the first place. But he didn’t want to go there right now. And, if he was honest with himself, he wished to avoid going there as long as possible. 

— “Alright,” he said. 

Toby got off the bed, still gloriously nude, and took Adil’s hand to get him to stand up as well. 

— “Come on,” he said, chuckling. “Let’s have a bath.”

As he settled in Toby’s lap in the hot water, Adil thought that there might be at least one terrain he could compete with Alistair St-John on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * playing backgammon: "backgammon player" was a euphemism used to designate homosexual men, and more precisely homosexual men who had anal sex. So here, George is actually asking Toby if he likes anal sex. 
> 
> ** chicken: homosexual slang for a young, naive and inexperienced gay man, or even an attractive young straight man; alternatively, a male homosexual prostitute
> 
> *** put brandy on the dish : "dish" is Polari for "anus" and "brandy" is Polari for "lube" (Polari is a secret language/slang that was used by homosexual men to communicate with each other and talk in front of straight people without being understood, before homosexuality became legal. Some people in the Lgbt community still use it today).  
> So George is mockingly advising Alistair to use a lot of lube on Toby before trying to have anal sex with him (because he perceives Toby as inexperienced)...


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone ! First of all, I apologize for taking so long to update this story ! 
> 
> I decided to split the initial new chapter in two, though, so I hope it will make up for the long wait. 
> 
> There should be either one more chapter or one more chapter and an epilogue after that. 
> 
> Enjoy ! 
> 
> Warning for : panic attack (light)

The incident with George did not have any lasting impact on Toby’s relationship with Alistair. Toby had been the first to call a few days later (Alistair’s flat now had a phone line), as he wanted to make sure his friend knew he really didn’t harbour any hard feelings. He had suggested that they could meet again, and Alistair had gingerly agreed. They had managed to see each other several times since then, though for Adil’s sake, Toby had made sure to be back at the hotel around the time he had planned to before going out. Alistair’s company was as enchanting as ever, and if possible, the man was even more thoughtful and obliging, making every effort to please him and find activities that would interest him. If Toby had not been a scientist with a rational mind, he would have wondered if his friend had some kind of magical powers, as he seemed able to conjure up timeless bubbles of artistic pleasure and intellectual enjoyment that took Toby very far away from the grim reality of War.  
And yet God knew Alistair himself was far from being remote from that reality. Even though the Blitz had officially ended, his medical service had not. Toby had trouble picturing the elegant man in scrubs, hands covered with blood or other substances as he tended to horribly injured patients. He sometimes wanted to talk to him about that, ask him how he felt, but he didn’t dare. It would feel like trespassing, and he didn’t want to risk tainting their moments together, when they were probably as much of a breath of fresh air for Alistair as they were for him. 

On one occasion, the Ashfords joined them for tea, and Toby was pleased to get to know them better. The couple really was quite charming, and seemed to have a perfectly loving and harmonious relationship, though it kind of puzzled Toby how tactile they both were with Alistair. One or the other was constantly touching his shoulder, his back, his arm, his hand, and both of them seemed to find it completely normal. Alistair didn’t seem to mind it at all either, though he was a bit more guarded towards Julian than Edna when it came to returning the gestures. Julian seemed to notice and grew more reserved over the course of the meal, though this visibly didn’t come naturally to him. Toby stored this piece of information in his mind with all the other elements he had filed regarding Alistair, under the label “interesting – should require further examination later”. This particular drawer in his memory was in danger of overflowing, but somehow the time for sorting in out never came. 

In his defence, Toby thought he already had more than enough bread on his plate. Responsibilities at work were piling up, his mother seemed to be constantly on his back – Toby didn’t think he would ever come to regret the time when she seemed to forget his existence for weeks on end – and he was trying to find as many moments as possible to be alone with Adil…though Adil had his own particular way of tiring him out lately. 

Indeed, his lover had grown extremely physical since the night they had discussed Toby’s first meeting with Alistair’s friends and ended up in bed. From then on, Adil seemed to have become insatiable and took every occasion he had to jump on Toby. Their love-making was wilder than it had ever been, at least what Toby could call wild in his relatively short, purely Adil-based experience. They had tried several new things in the past few weeks – things that made Toby blush whenever he thought about them. The physical pleasure was intense, and yet Toby couldn’t help feeling that there was something missing. He knew he was probably mad to think about it that way. How could he even dare to feel anything else than gratitude and excitement at having his breathtakingly beautiful lover all over him like that? It felt extremely good to be wanted, no doubt. Even after all this time, Toby still didn’t really understand how he could elicit such reactions in Adil. 

It thus took a moment for him to pinpoint exactly what troubled him. It wasn’t Adil’s eagerness or the fact that they had been adding new elements and sensations into their routine. He was perfectly comfortable with that. In fact, except in the aftermath of the d’Abberville disaster, when everything in their relationship was going askew, physical intimacy had always come surprisingly easy between them. Toby had been the first surprised at the beginning. He had thought himself as repressed and tightly wound up as any English boy of his age and time, with the added pressure of not having any acceptable outlet for his shameful needs. Ever since puberty, he had steeled himself against the base instincts of his body, investing all of himself in the mind, the abstract, the fleshless quality of data and numbers and figures.  
At first, he had tried to see his growingly obvious attraction to Adil in the same light. The perfect symmetry of his face, the harmonious tones of his voice, none of it needed to be tainted with carnal urges. Even the jolt of electricity that had run through him when their hands had brushed around Toby’s glass could be explained away with contact points and static charges.  
Needless to say, his pretence had been swept away the moment Adil had kissed him in the cellar. Suddenly he had been there, warm and solid and soft and fragrant, and Toby’s senses had been set aflame. The urge had awaken, the need to touch and stroke and taste, and with it the pitch-black pit of the unknown had opened in front of Toby. Kisses were fine in themselves, sensual and intense and profoundly rewarding in their searching tenderness, but still rather innocent. Normal men were allowed to share kisses with their girlfriends. Taking things below the belt was another matter entirely. The very thought of letting Adil touch him through his clothes, let alone getting naked in front of him, had been as terrifying as it was enticing. And yet he had let Adil ease him through each step like a blind man trusting his guide, and Adil’s hands touching his bare skin for the first time had been enough to make his body come alive like a flower turning towards the sun. It had all felt natural and right and utterly wonderful. So much so that Toby had come to question how they could be seen as the perverse ones instead of those who made laws saying that such pleasure was filthy and wrong and had to be forbidden. He had heard tales about lust and how degrading it was for the soul, even between men and women when not strictly limited to marital intercourse. But there had been nothing degrading in what had brought his body together with Adil’s. It had been a mutual offering, a bliss that was multiplied through sharing and caring for one another. It fact, it had felt much closer to the Song of Songs than to the vices of Sodom and Gomorra. That was precisely why Toby had been so deeply hurt when he had thought, for an excruciating moment, that Adil had been sleeping with him out of interest and had only pretended to be emotionally involved. It was that sensation of betrayal and violation he had been recalling when telling Adil he felt disgusted when he thought of what they had done together. 

What he was experiencing these days was clearly not disgust. And yet the constant physical satiation was leaving him feeling strangely empty, as though the communion between their bodies no longer served to strengthen their mental connexion, but was instead starting to impede it. In fact, it felt like they weren’t doing anything else than having sex when they were together lately. Toby knew from reading medicine and moral treatises that healthy young males were designed to have physical urges almost all the time. They were supposed to want sexual gratification, and once they were finally allowed to express this need – that is, in the conjugal bed – their wives just had to provide the required gratification or cause their husbands to go find their pleasure elsewhere, a corruption for which they would then be solely responsible for failing to fulfil their conjugal duty. Those very same medicine treatises stated that inverted men had an unregulated sexual drive and were essentially lust-driven creatures who were prone to promiscuity and fornication. This description had repulsed Toby, and he was now convinced that the distinguished doctors who had authored those treatises were bloody fools who had no idea what they were talking about. And yet part of him still wondered if there was something wrong with him. If he had been cast in the same mould as other men, be them homosexuals or regular males. Because it was clear now that he did not want to have sex all the time, and not even every time he was with Adil. To be precise, Toby did want Adil. His desire for him was as strong as ever. But he wanted other things with him too. He needed more than just sex, as enjoyable as it could be. He feared he might have misled Adil by being so enthusiastic that night, when his lover had been so assertive and passionate. Toby had been entirely sincere in his reaction, but that didn’t mean he expected the performance to be reiterated at every opportunity. 

He knew that he just had to own up to his feelings and be honest with Adil. Surely this didn’t need to be a big deal. They would find their balance back. Toby just had to choose his words carefully to make sure Adil wouldn’t think he was rejecting him. 

The opportunity came up when Toby came back home one evening after an exhausting day at work. As much as he tried to keep a cool head and not let the human reality behind the stats and data he collected, coded and decoded all day long get to him, there were moments when he couldn’t shield himself from it any more, couldn’t just ignore the fact that these documents talked about real people, real lives lost and crushed in this nauseating bloodshed of a conflict. Add to it the fact that Albert Jones had been in a foul mood all day after apparently failing to get the infamous blond steno of the second floor to have dinner with him, and that their boss had given them all a scolding for no apparent reason – probably because this terrible mess was also taking a toll on his nerves – and Toby was left with a stock of energy that felt dangerously close to zero. The return trip to the hotel on the underground with a crying child was the last straw. The only thing he wanted was to crawl into bed with Adil, bury his face in the crook of his neck and let it all out in one raw, disorganized flow of words, not caring if they made sense or not, just knowing that Adil would understand somehow, even if he couldn’t share the confidential details with him. Or maybe they could talk about something else, something merrier, something hopeful. Or he could just stay quiet and listen to the soothing sound of Adil’s voice, like a gentle lullaby for his tired brain…

He barely answered Feldman’s words of welcome, ditched his mother’s attempts at a conversation with a white lie mumble about having a headache and not wanting dinner, and went straight up to his room, where he all but collapsed on the bed. 

He didn’t really know how much time had elapsed before he heard the familiar soft knock on the door. He was feeling better physically from the silence and the rest, but his spirits were still down. He stood up and walked to the door to let Adil in. 

— “Are you really unwell or were you just trying to avoid your mother?” His lover asked, cautiously stepping in and watching him with worried eyes. 

— “I did have the beginning of a headache,” Toby answered. “But it’s under control now, I think…mostly I’m just worn out. It was a very stressful day.” 

— “Oh,” Adil answered compassionately. “I’m sorry for you, my love…”

He moved to cup Toby’s face between his hands and deposited a soft kiss on his lips. 

— “What about you?” Toby asked once the feather-light mouth of his lover had taken flight again. “How was your day?” 

— “Oh, you know…the usual,” Adil answered vaguely. “I am not doing anything as important as you do.” 

— “Don’t say that,” Toby said, frowning. “Besides, I’m starting to wonder if I’m really making any kind of a difference. It seems like a drop of water in the ocean at this point.” 

— “I’m sure that’s not true,” Adil replied. “It may seem that way, but you are achieving much more than you think you are. When the war is over, you’ll be seen as one of the heroes.” 

— “Freddie and the other pilots and all the soldiers on the front line are the heroes,” Toby retorted. “We’re just some obscure bureaucrats recording casualties as though they’re some sort of shopping list!” 

— “That’s not the only thing you do, Toby!” Adil protested. “The information you decode and transcribe, it saves lives too!” 

— “Alistair saves lives,” Toby replied. “Or at least he contributes to saving them, concretely. And he never complains about having a bad day. Well, not to me, anyway.” 

_Maybe it’s because you’re not in his bedroom at night._

— “I don’t care how he…I don’t care how other people cope,” Adil amended. “I just care about you, and you have every right to complain about your day.” 

— “My superior drilled us for not being efficient enough, today,” Toby went on. “I felt terrible because he is right. I should do more, I should do better…”

Adil immediately noticed the switch from “us” to “me”. He didn’t know whether Toby’s boss had really used the words “not efficient enough” but he was pretty sure his lover had translated them as “not good enough” and applied them to him personally, even though the reproach had been m eant for the team as a whole. 

— “Toby, you’re doing the best you can,” he tried to placate him. “You’re only human, and he wasn’t addressing you personally. You cannot do the work of four people on your own.” 

— “I wish I didn’t have to work with Jones. I wish I could work with someone like Alistair instead…”

 _Here we go again._

— “I thought he didn’t know anything about stats?” Adil retorted coldly.

— “He doesn’t, but he knows cryptology and at least he wouldn’t stress me out all the time,” Toby replied. 

_I’m sure he’d be delighted to be locked up in an office with you all week. Bringing you coffee and taking you out for lunch. Inadvertently rubbing shoulders with you when leaning over a document or touching your hand while pointing at something…_

— “Don’t think about it anymore,” Adil said, turning his voice into a silky murmur. “He wrapped his arms around Toby’s neck. If you’re stressed, I’ll help you relax…”

He kissed him again, but in a much more sensual way than the first time around. 

Toby let him do it, parting his lips when he invited him to, but not really responding. It was a first. 

Adil moved his hands to cup his face while he gently started playing with his tongue, and that seemed to do the trick. Toby let out a soft moan and instinctively pressed himself more closely against him. Adil lowered one of his hands and let it run over the small of Toby’s back, then his backside. 

— “Adil…” Toby breathed, breaking the kiss. 

Adil immediately started fumbling with Toby’s belt, but the other man’s hands took hold of his to stop him. 

— “Adil…stop…”

— “You don’t want me?” Adil asked. He flinched at his slip of the tongue. He had meant to say “You don’t want to.”

— “I’m sorry…It’s really, really tempting but I’m just too tired. I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it as much as I should…”

— “Well…I should leave, then,” Adil said, moving away from him. “I should let you sleep…”

— “What? No, no I don’t want you to leave…”

Adil stopped. 

— “I thought you were tired?”

— “I am, but…I’d still like to spend some time with you…just…not doing that.”

— “What would you like to do, then?” Adil asked, trying to ignore the warning twitch in his stomach. 

— “We could just…cuddle on the bed and talk some more?” Toby asked hopefully. 

— “Talk about what?” Adil snapped. 

— “I…I don’t know…whatever you want…” Toby stammered, taken aback by his bitter tone. “It’s just that...I feel like we never talk anymore…”

Adil’s heart clenched with guilt. He knew that Toby was right, and he knew he had been the one to initiate this change. The reasons for it were unclean and hurt like festering wounds when he tried to look at them closely, but it wasn’t fair to take it out on Toby. 

— “You know what?” He said, in a softer voice. “I…I’m tired too.” 

Toby’s eyes widened. 

— “Of course,” he replied, “what an idiot I am! Of course, you’re tired; you’re working so hard too, you’ve been on your feet all day…I’m sorry I made it all about myself again…”

Making him feel guilty had not been Adil’s intention at all. He was tired – but he had mostly been looking for a pretext to avoid talking, without it seeming like he was purposefully shutting Toby out – which, in effect, he was. 

— “No, Toby, it’s fine,” he assured. “Really, I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t think I’m up for a conversation, that’s all.” 

— “Oh,” his lover answered, visibly doing his best to hide his disappointment. “Then…could we maybe… just cuddle? I’ll set the alarm clock early, in case we both fall asleep…please?” 

Toby was still looking at him with those wide eyes that made him look so young and vulnerable and made Adil ache with the urge to do everything in his power to keep him safe and happy. 

He smiled. 

— “Alright. Just cuddle, then.” 

Toby took his hand and stroked the back of it with his thumb. 

— “Thank you,” he breathed. 

A moment later, they were lying on the bed, with Toby’s head resting on Adil’s shoulder. 

Adil fell back into old habits and slipped his fingers through Toby hair. He started massaging his scalp the way he knew always helped him relax. As usual, he felt his lover shiver and slowly turn into a puddle under his ministrations. If Toby had been a cat, Adil was pretty sure he would have purred. 

— “Feels so good…” he breathed in a voice that was probably the human equivalent of such a sound. “Thank you…God, I love you so much…”

Adil’s heart jumped in his chest. 

He still loves you, you fool, the little voice in his head told him. What more proof do you need? 

He felt his throat tighten as though he was about to cry. 

— “I love you too,” he answered softly. 

He soon heard Toby’s breath even out, and it didn’t take long for his lover to be soundly asleep. Adil knew Toby didn’t fall asleep that easily when he was alone. He usually thought about all sorts of things that kept him awake – and those things were not always pleasant. After the day he had just had, there was no way he could have dozed off so fast, as exhausted as he might have been. 

_I did that. Me. I calm him down, I help him sleep. St-John couldn’t do that._

_How do you know he couldn’t?_

He carefully extricated himself from his lover’s embrace and stood up, setting up the alarm clock to ring at Toby’s usual wake up time instead of his own. He pulled up the coverlet over the other man’s sleeping form, and silently picked up his uniform jacket that was resting on the back of the chair. 

He looked at Toby’s profile on the pillow for a moment longer before slipping out of the room. 

***

The following week brought Freddie back home for a few days’ leave. Toby was very happy to see his brother, and the fact that it meant losing most of his mother’s attention did not bother him as it used to. If anything, it was more of a relief. It did not make him feel lonely any more. He had Adil, he had Joe – who had equally lost all chances of attracting Emma’s attention and was consequently drinking even more than usual – and he also had Alistair. With Freddie’s return, though, Toby had even less time to give him, as he wanted to make the most of his brother’s presence when he wasn’t at work. And Freddie was visibly making efforts to spend as much time with him as possible as well, including just the two of them. Toby was touched. They were not back to what they used to be, but it still felt good to have some twins time. And Freddie’s insight from the danger zone renewed his confidence in the value of his work, since it was clear than the intel provided by his department contributed to the RAF’s successes on the field and helped avoid some severe losses. With that in mind, Toby put all the energy he had into doing the best job possible and more. Adil was right. He was not only an obscure bureaucrat recording casualties. He was also preventing fighters like his brother from becoming another name on that list. For the first time in his life, he, Toby Hamilton, was in a position to do something to protect other people, including his brother, instead of only being the one who needed protection. And he would damn well make the most of this opportunity, even if he never got any credit for it. 

***

— “Hamilton, the director wants to see you in his office,” his superior called. 

Toby froze in his seat, as his colleagues threw him interrogative – or suspicious – glances. He feverishly tried to guess what mistake he could have made in his last transcriptions or reports but came out blank. He didn’t see what fault they could have found with his behaviour either. He was never late, took the shortest lunch breaks possible and hardly any other breaks in the course of the day except to tend to basic needs, never chatted or complained about the workload…

It had to be something else. What if someone had been leaking information again? What if the department was implicated once more and they thought it had something to do with him? What if they thought he had been bringing documents home again now that they had stopped searching him? What if they thought he had been playing the fool all along and had in fact been involved from the start, a willing accomplice of d’Abberville who was now keeping up with the spying game on his own? 

_Not this again. Please, please, not this again…_

— “Right now, Hamilton,” Mr Perry snapped. 

Toby stood up and walked to the door, passing by Jones’ desk. The man glared at him, but Toby couldn’t help wondering whether he felt vindicated now that the object of his dislike seemed to be in trouble again. 

He went his way past Mr Perry. To his surprise, the man didn’t seem intent on accompanying him, as he had previously thought he would. Toby kept on walking down the hall, moving mechanically until he was standing in front of the director’s office door. He wondered if he was going to find agent Mortimer waiting for him on the other side, either staring at him icily or smiling smugly, savouring his power once more.

_“I haven’t finished with this. You cannot hide behind you family forever.”_

_“Your word means nothing to me.”_

_“Shout at me again, Toby, raise your voice, go on!”_

Toby felt a taste of bile coming up his throat. He was going to be sick. 

_Don’t lose it now, for God’s sake! Man up! You’ve done nothing wrong this time, they cannot possibly have any evidence that would implicate you. Don’t play their game. Don’t let them see you’re scared. You have no reason to be, and they have no right to accuse you of anything without proof. Whatever this is about, you have nothing to do with it. End of story._

Toby swallowed the bitter taste, trying to push back his memories of Mortimer into the darkest recesses of his memory and summon up Adil’s soothing voice instead:  
_“Breathe. Please, for me. Slowly, in…and out…good…”_

After pumping some more oxygen, Toby resolutely raised his hand to knock on the door. 

— “Come in,” came the answer. 

Toby opened the door and stepped inside the imposing office. There was no one in the room except for its legitimate occupant, Director Mulberry. 

— “You asked to see me, Sir?”

— “Ha, Hamilton! Good morning,” the director said upon seeing him, looking up from the document he was examining. 

Neither the greetings nor his voice seemed to be particularly ominous. But maybe they were trying to make him feel safe and at ease at first, to gauge his reactions…  
He crossed his arms behind his back, discreetly fisting the fabric of his jacket, and tried to keep a straight face. 

— “Good morning to you, Sir. How can I be of use?” 

— “Please have a sit,” the man answered, gesturing towards the chair in front of his desk. “I wanted to discuss something with you.” 

— “Has my work been remiss, Sir?” 

_You idiot. Why did you have to say that? It sounded defensive. Just shut up until you’re asked something._

— “Oh, not at all! Actually that’s what I wanted to talk to you about…care for some scotch?” 

Toby’s throat felt completely parched now. 

— “Yes,” he answered hoarsely. “Thank you.” 

It was eleven o’clock, a bit early for drinking strong alcohol, but he would take everything he could get. 

Once the drink had been put in front of him though, he started questioning his decision. Alcohol eased up nerves, but it also muddled the mind. Toby fiddled with the glass, looking down at the amber liquid like it was poisonous. 

— “So, Hamilton,” the director went on, seemingly unaware of Toby’s unease. “How long exactly have you been working with us?” 

***

Toby stepped out of the building in a haze. The sunlight felt almost blinding, pouring down upon the greyness of the city. 

He slowly walked over to a bench and sat down, feeling dizzy. 

He raised his arms and pressed the heels of his hands over his eyes.

He wanted to talk to Adil, right now. But it wasn’t possible. He had to wait. 

And yet he was burning to talk to somebody. 

After a moment of hesitation, he stood up and walked towards the nearest phone booth. 

***  
It was getting late, way past Toby’s usual return time on a Friday – when he got to finish his day earlier than the rest of the week – and he wasn’t home yet.  
Adil tried not to worry. Toby may have volunteered to do extra hours, or there might have been an urgent meeting planned, or he had wanted to walk and take some fresh air before coming back. There was no need to fear he had had an accident, and no sirens had been heard. An attack by thieves was unlikely, as Toby wasn’t the type who attracted attention, with his discreet, too-large mousy brown suits and well-loved leather satchel. The only detail that betrayed his rank and family wealth was his signet ring. 

Adil quieted down his baseless alarms and busied himself with his work, but he couldn’t help the relief that washed over him when he finally heard Lady Hamilton’s voice greeting her son. He turned on his heels to see his lover step into the bar area. 

As he was taking in Toby’s appearance, Adil’s jaw dropped for a second, before he managed to regain his composure. Instead of one of his usual ill-fitting suits, his lover was wearing a perfectly well-adjusted outfit, which he could tell was admirably tailored and made of premium quality cloth, and managed to look both fashionable and tasteful. The rich navy blue colour really brought out Toby’s eyes and complexion. He looked absolutely gorgeous. Even his hair was not styled exactly as usual: it had less pomade in, allowing some of his natural curls to spring back to life, and the slightly more dishevelled look really suited him (not that this came as a surprise to Adil, who had seen his lover’s hair in various states of disarray in the intimacy of Toby’s bedroom and enjoyed it immensely). The barman gulped and tried to focus on his cocktail-making again. Luckily for him, there were not that many costumers to serve. 

Obviously, he was not the only one who had noticed the striking change in the Honourable Tobias Hamilton’s gear. His mother and brother had, too. 

— “Why, you look very…dapper, tonight, Toby!” Lady Hamilton finally uttered, once she had sufficiently recovered from the shock. 

— “Who are you and what have you done to Toby Hamilton?” Freddie playfully added, his eyes gleaming with surprise and delight. 

— “Well, thank you very much,” Toby replied, rolling his eyes. “It’s always nice to be reminded that you usually think I dress like a drab.”

— “Toby!!” Lady Hamilton chided. 

— “You really don’t know how to take a compliment, do you?” The young Lord Hamilton exclaimed, shaking his head in mild annoyance. 

— “I guess it must be from lack of practice, coming from the two of you,” his brother retorted drily. 

It was Freddie’s turn to roll his eyes. 

— “Enough nonsense,” Priscilla said. “Toby, may I ask what made you finally decide to buy a decent suit?” 

— “Well, Mother, I seem to remember that you suggested me to buy a new suit once I got promoted,” Toby said with a half-smile. 

— “Toby! Are you saying …?”

— “I got promoted. I’ve known it since half past eleven this morning. It won’t be official until Monday, though. I’m moving offices and will get to supervise my own team from then on.” 

— “Oh sweetheart, that’s wonderful! I’m so proud of you!” 

Lady Hamilton _did_ seem immensely proud, and was looking at Toby with a radiant look on her face that was usually reserved for her eldest-by-four-minutes son.  
Adil’s own heart swelled as he watched Toby get wrapped in a bear-hug by his brother. 

— “Congratulations, Toby! See, I told you they’d be lucky to have you!” 

Toby’s grin could have lighted up the whole room, and Adil couldn’t hide his matching smile when his lover turned to the bar and threw him a warm glance. 

Adil wanted nothing more than to jump over the counter and take him in his arms right then and there, and declare to the whole world how proud he was of his man, his incredibly bright, hard-working and dedicated man, who was finally starting to get the recognition he deserved. 

— “Champagne!” Lady Hamilton clamoured. “My son got a promotion!” 

Adil practically ran to fetch the bottle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit and kudos to the Adoby authors who gave Toby a makeover before me over the years ! <3


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for : anxiety attack and general angst at one point (sorry !)

— “Gods, I thought the celebration would never end,” Adil groaned when they were finally reunited in Toby’s room. “Not that you didn’t deserve it…but I just couldn’t wait to congratulate you myself!” 

Toby buried his face in his neck. 

— “I must be mad for saying yes,” he said. “Can you picture me with a team under my responsibility? Me?” 

He sounded more astounded than really afraid, which was a good thing. 

— “Oh, yes, I can,” Adil stated firmly. “And your boss definitely can! He would not have appointed you if he didn’t think you were cut for the job. And you can always ask me for advice,” he added playfully. “And Miss Garland of course!” 

— “She already offered,” Toby smiled. “Everyone was so nice…”

— “So proud, you mean,” Adil replied, beaming as well. “I am too. I am so, so proud of you, my love!” 

— “Thank you,” Toby exhaled. “God, at first I really thought I had done something wrong…I could not believe it when he asked me if I would consider taking up a senior position.” 

— “I always knew it would happen sooner or later,” Adil replied sincerely. “They would have been stupid not to promote you. They can clearly see what a great job you’re doing and how invested you are!” 

— “I just didn’t think they would ever do it, after…well, you know,” Toby mumbled. He looked away in embarrassment for a second. 

Adil’s heart clenched in that familiar way it did whenever one of them incidentally brought up that particular topic, but it didn’t hurt the way it used to. 

— “Well I’m glad they proved you wrong on that,” he said softly. 

Toby took his hand and brought it to his lips, gently depositing a kiss on the back, as if to make amends for mentioning the subject. 

One kiss turned into several, one for each finger, and Adil let out a little breathy laugh. 

— “What?” Toby asked, looking up at him without letting go of his hand, lips hovering over his skin. 

— “Nothing. I just feel like I’m an actress in a Hollywood picture,” Adil replied. “You look like a film star in that suit! So swoon-worthy…”

— “You like it then? Really?” Toby asked anxiously. “You don’t think I look like an idiot?” 

— “I think you’re the most attractive man I’ve ever seen,” Adil answered honestly. 

— “Don’t exaggerate,” Toby answered, cheeks tinging with pink. “I’m hardly the best looking man around. I’m barely average, on a good day…you, on the other hand…you’re stunning!” 

— “I beg to differ,” Adil replied. “You ARE an attractive man. And I really wish you’d believe me when I say that.” 

Toby’s eyes were shining with pleasure and an unusual amount of pride. 

— “Alright,” he said with a grin. “I’ll try to believe you. I have to admit it’s a bit easier than usual with that suit…”

— “You chose well,” Adil approved, grasping his lapels to bring him closer for a kiss. 

But Toby chuckled and shook his head dismissively. 

— “Oh, I could never have chosen one on my own,” he replied. “I would have been completely lost! Alistair took me to the tailor after work and helped me choose…I really wasn’t sure about the colour or the cut at first but he convinced me.”

Adil let go of Toby and stepped back, all urge to kiss his lover forgotten. 

— “Alistair helped you choose that suit?” He repeated. “You saw him this afternoon?” 

— “Yes,” Toby answered, seemingly unaware of Adil’s inner turmoil. “I called him after I learned I was getting the promotion…I really wanted to share it with somebody, and I couldn’t call you, so…and then I joked about my mother’s wish that I buy a new suit if I ever got promoted, and he said why not take her upon her word…”

— “And then he took it upon himself to tell you what you ought to choose to fit his own taste?” 

— “What are you talking about?” Toby replied, frowning. “He didn’t push me to do anything; it was me who asked him for help. I wanted some advice and I like the way he dresses, so I thought…”

— “Oh, of course,” Adil sneered. “You like the way he dresses. He is so perfect he even managed to make you interested in fashion!” 

The hurt in Toby’s eyes made Adil want to crawl and hide in some dark corner in shame. He didn’t know why all these vicious words were coming out of his mouth. He didn’t even recognize himself anymore. And Gods, he hated himself for doing that to his lover. Making him lose his confidence and wiping the smile off his face.  
Seeing him hunch his shoulders and avert his eyes. It was like watching a rare and beautiful flower wither and die in the space of a few minutes. 

— “Of course,” Toby mumbled. “Who am I trying to fool?” 

— “No, Toby…Toby, I didn’t mean that! What are you doing??” 

— “Changing,” Toby replied, angrily taking off the brand new jacket and letting it fall in a heap on the floor. 

— “No, don’t! Toby I’m sorry!”

Adil moved to grasp Toby’s hands to stop him, but Toby pulled his fingers out of his grip and yanked off his silk tie, almost tearing off the precious fabric in the process. Adil would never have thought that seeing Toby disrobe would one day cause him such heart-wrenching feelings. He saw the silver cufflinks pop out, landing a few feet away on the carpeted floor. 

— “Toby,” he pleaded, voice strangled. “Stop, please!”

Toby did not look at him, but he did stop, his chest heaving in and out. 

— “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Adil repeated, praying that Toby would understand. “What I said…it wasn’t about you at all…I was just…angry because it was Alistair who helped you choose the suit. I…I really shouldn’t have reacted like that…I’m sorry…”

Toby let out a puff of anger and threw him a reproachful glance.

— “He is my friend and he helped me, because I asked. That’s all! He didn’t do anything wrong. Why do you hate him so much?” He asked. 

— “I don’t hate him…”Adil started. 

He didn’t finish his sentence though, because he knew it was a lie. He knew that part of him, a dark, twisted, self-loathing part of him did hate Mr Alistair St-John, with his bright blue eyes and charming smiles, his fascinating conversation and his bloody silver cigarette case. And Toby could see the lie in his eyes right know. 

— “I hate him because he’s taking you away from me,” he finally said. 

— “But that’s not true!” Toby exclaimed, sounding exasperated. “He’s never done anything to try and seduce me, he’s never made a single move…”

— “But for God’s sake, Toby, he doesn’t have to do anything more! Don’t you see? You’re spending all of your free time with him, going to the pictures, to the library, taking walks, going to art exhibits, concerts, having tea and drinks in town, and now even shopping! How do you think that makes me feel when you come back in the evening and I go to your room and I hear you telling me all about your wonderful day with him, and then you fuck me and I go back to my place, or to work? How do you think I feel, Toby?” 

Toby’s eyes were huge by the time Adil had finished his rant. 

— “So that’s what it feels like to you?” He said. “Like I’m just fucking you and sending you away?” 

Adil knew he was being unfair, that it was not really what he meant. But he stayed silent for a moment too long, and Toby’s voice rose up again before he could answer, full of hurt and indignation: “How can you say that? It’s always you who wants us to jump right into bed and go at it like rabbits!” 

— “That’s because it is the only thing he doesn’t do with you yet!” Adil exploded. 

Toby was standing there looking at him, very pale. 

— “Don’t you think I would rather do all these things with you? Don’t you think I would give anything to just walk around with you in broad daylight even if we couldn’t touch each other? Don’t you think I dream of having you in front of me in these tearooms and these cafés instead of Alistair, and laugh and joke and just be there together, Adil? Don’t you think I crave it every damn minute of every day?” 

Toby’s voice was growing louder and rawer by the second.

They had to stop this madness now or they would end up being found out. Again. But Adil couldn’t even bring himself to care. 

— “But that’s the point, Toby!” He exclaimed. “You can’t! You can’t do any of that with me, but you can do it with him!” 

— “I told you already! If you don’t want me to go out with Alistair anymore, I won’t!” 

— “No, Toby, I don’t want that. That’s not what I want at all…”

— “Then what do you want? Tell me!”

— “I want you to admit that he can give you everything you could hope for. You could even share rooms with him in Oxford when the war is over and no one would bat an eyelid! You know it’s true!” 

— “Yes, maybe! Probably! But he cannot give me everything! He cannot replace you! He could never replace you!”

— “You don’t know that, Toby. You won’t know until you give him a chance.” 

— “But I don’t want to give him a chance!” 

— “Well maybe you should!” 

There was a pause. 

— “He invited me to go to Oxford with him next week-end,” Toby said slowly. “He invited me to stay at his place. Alone. I said no. Because I didn’t want you to have doubts.” 

— “Say yes.” 

— “What?” 

— “Say yes. See what happens.” 

— “But what on earth do you expect will happen, Adil?” Toby exclaimed. “Even if I wanted to – which I don’t – you know I would never cheat on you! I’m not…I’m not my father!” 

— “You wouldn’t be cheating on me, Toby,” Adil answered softly. “I’m giving you my blessing.” 

Toby couldn’t believe his ears. Blessing? What blessing? 

Was Adil really giving him permission to hop in the sack with another man, as though their commitment to each other meant nothing at all? That didn’t sound like a blessing to Toby. It sounded like a bloody curse!

— “I don’t…I don’t understand…” he stammered. “Are you breaking up with me?” 

— “That’s not what I want. At all. But I don’t want you to stick up with me for the wrong reasons either. I was your first, but it doesn’t mean…it doesn’t mean I have to be your last.” 

— “You don’t want to be my last? You don’t want me to be your last?” 

— “It’s not about what I want. It’s about what’s best for you.” 

— “No, don’t do this! Don’t tell me that you know what’s best for me! Don’t tell me what to do!” 

_“Don’t you touch me! And don’t tell me what to do! I trusted you, and I…”_

— “I am a grown man, Adil. I am my own person. I can take my own decisions! You have no right to decide for me. You hear me? You have no right!” 

— “That’s true,” Adil admitted. “I have no right telling you what’s best for you. But I can decide what’s best for me. And I can’t go on like this, Toby. I don’t like the way I feel, the way I think and react. I hate that I just ruined your night because I can’t bear the thought that he was the first to learn about your promotion, that he got to share that with you before I could. That he was with you at that tailor shop and got to give you advice on what looked best on you, and not me.”

— “Adil…”

— “No, please, let me finish. I know that none of this is your fault, or his. I know that you didn’t mean to hurt me in any way. But I cannot get past this, right now. And that’s not fair to either of us. I can’t help it, this feeling…this knowledge that he can give you so much more than I ever could, that you could be so happy with him, if only I wasn’t in the way. And even if you don’t see it like that…it’s getting at me, Toby. It makes me sick with envy, sick with guilt, and it’s wrong. It’s tainting everything, every moment I spend with you.”

— “Don’t say that…” Toby pleaded, unable to let him go on uninterrupted. “It’s not like that…”

— “Tell me honestly, Toby, am I really that loveable these days? Did you really love how I reacted earlier?” 

_You lied to me, betrayed my trust, stole from me, almost got me framed for treason, and I still bloody loved you then_ , Toby thought, but he couldn’t say that, wouldn’t say that.

— “We’ve been through worse!” He said instead, desperately. “We can work this out! Adil, I love you! I never stopped!”

— “I love you too, Toby,” Adil sighed. “I’m just not sure it’s enough anymore.” 

That hurt like a punch to the sternum. 

Did Adil really mean all that? Was it really how he felt? How Toby had made him feel all this time? Like he was an obstacle, an inconvenience? What an appalling partner he had been! No wonder Adil thought that leaving him would be the best for him! 

_And is it really that surprising, that he would be happier without me?_

Adil had been with other men before Toby. It wasn’t unconceivable for him. Even though according to him, most of those encounters had been brief and more aimed at getting physical relief than particularly loving, it didn’t mean Adil did not have a chance to find someone else, someone nice for him. Someone he could spend time with more easily, because they would have the same social background. And maybe Toby was being selfish, trying to keep him. He knew he could not find anyone better than Adil, but the opposite was not true. What did he have in him that would make this beautiful, brave, smart, incredible man want to stay with him? Adil deserved someone handsomer, more confident, less awkward…

_Someone more like Freddie._

He felt tears gathering in his eyes and closed them to try and stop them from falling down his cheeks. It failed. 

— “If I don’t make you happy,” he said. “If what we can have together is not enough for you anymore…then I won’t force you to stay. You can do whatever you want. You can find someone else. Someone better suited to you. I suppose you’re right in that. We’re really not a match made in Heaven, are we?” 

Adil was looking at him with his soulful dark eyes and Toby just had to look away. If he didn’t, he knew he would fall to his knees and beg him not to leave him. Just like Adil himself had done once. 

— “It is for the best, Toby,” Adil repeated in a calm, soft voice. 

So calm and so soft and Toby wanted to scream. 

_For the best._

— “If you think so,” he answered with feigned indifference. 

— “You’ll come to think so too,” Adil replied. “I know you will.” 

Toby didn’t answer, refusing to look at him. 

— “Good night, Toby,” Adil murmured. 

Then he unlocked the door and slipped silently out of the room. 

It all felt horribly familiar.

Toby stared at the door after he was gone, as his brain tried to catch up with what had just occurred. 

It was supposed to be a night of celebration.

How could it have all come crashing down so fast? 

_There were signs, Toby. They were all there, for weeks, months. You saw them, and you chose to ignore them because you didn’t want to disrupt your little routine, your little self-centred satisfaction. You should have guessed Adil wasn’t happy. You should have learned from last time. But you didn’t. You missed it all, again. And to think you’re supposed to be clever!_

Toby’s chest was feeling so tight, as though some invisible hand had been squeezing his heart and his lungs. His throat was knotted by tears that would not fall this time, just gathering there unshed and slowly smothering him. He felt the pain and frustration and self-loathing starting to rage inside him, trapped in a body that suddenly felt like a cage.

 _I’ve pushed him away. I’ve pushed him away, again, and now he won’t be coming back. He won’t give me another chance. I’ve been selfish and blind and stupid and I’ve ruined everything._

Just when he thought things were finally going right in his life, with a man he loved and who loved him back, a relationship on the mend with his family, some true friends, including one such as he would never have hoped to make, and a promotion based on his sole merits…of course something had to go wrong. Of course he had to make the wrong steps and say the wrong words, because that was what he did, wasn’t it, and now Adil was gone, the most precious thing in his life, the only thing he couldn’t live without anymore, _not thing, person, wonderful, perfect person_ who clearly had nothing to do with him, and how was he supposed to cope with the stress that would come with the promotion now without his angel by his side to help him through it, to help him believe that he was able, that he was worth it, but he wasn’t, wasn’t worth anything, had never been, _worthless, useless, supernumerary_ , and now he had to tell the director that he had picked up the wrong man, _wrong man_ , because he was nothing but a pathetic waste of space, and _why, why, why couldn’t he ever do anything right??_

A hissing sound was coming out of his throat, like the raw cry of some wounded animal, and he started clawing at his face, then biting his forearm, anything, anything to make it stop, make it stop, let it out, but it wasn’t working, not working, and now he was breathing too fast, too shallow, but he couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop, couldn’t control anything, and the next thing he knew he was crawling on the carpet, and the lights of the room were starting to look fuzzy. 

And then he heard a voice, and it was coming in. 

— “Toby, are you in bed yet? I wanted to ask if you…Toby?” 

He had not locked the door behind Adil.

— “Go away!” Toby tried to croak, but it came out of his mouth like a strangled moan. 

— “Oh God, Toby…”

Freddie dropped down on his knees in front of him, grasping his face between his hands. 

— “Toby! Toby, look at me! You have to breathe!” 

— “C…can’t…” Toby hissed. 

— “Yes you can,” Freddie replied firmly. “Listen to me. I’m going to count to three, and on three you’re going to take a deep breath, alright? One…two…three!” 

Toby took the breath and let it out shakily. 

— “That’s it! That’s good! Go on now, gently…breathe with me…just breathe…”

Toby could feel Freddie’s hands pressed firmly on each side of his face, could smell the scent of his cologne, could hear him breathing in and out, could see the faint movement of his chest, could feel the carpeted floor of the hotel room under his own knees, and little by little, it anchored him back into reality.

Freddie had not moved an inch, not letting go of his face, just waiting and breathing deeply with him in silence. 

— “Are you feeling better?” He softly asked after a while. 

Toby nodded weakly. 

Only then did his brother stop cupping his face, and Toby felt of tinge of regret once the warm palms had left. 

— “You remembered…” he murmured in spite of himself, voice hoarse.

— “What?”

— “What to do. You remembered…”

— “Of course, I did! How could I forget? I even remember that nursery rhyme that used to calm you down when we were children…you know, the black sheep?”

_“Black sheep, black sheep, have you any wool? Yes Sir, yes Sir, three bags full/ One for my master and one for the dame/And one for the little boy who lives down the lane”._

Yes. Toby remembered it too: the little blanket fort like a protective cocoon, and Freddie’s body pressed to his side, his arm wrapped around his shoulder, and his child voice singing the words over and over, just changing the colour of the sheep every time. 

He also remembered that one day it had stopped. 

— “I think we’ve both outgrown nursery rhymes some time ago, haven’t we?” He said with an underlying bitterness that Freddie didn’t miss. 

— “Of course, I…I know that…and that’s not what I meant…Christ, Toby…I’m so sorry I made you feel like you didn’t mean anything to me anymore for all these years. I know I didn’t do anything to prove you wrong. Believe me, I wish I could turn back time and stand up to Father every time he said something hurtful to you. I wish I had had the courage to support you instead of only trying to stay out of trouble. But I can’t. I can’t change the past, but I can do better now. I want to, if you’d let me.” 

Toby let out a still laboured breath, then nodded, without a word. 

Freddie didn’t need more. 

He helped Toby stand up and got him to lie on the bed, back propped up against the pillows, then took the jug of water on the nightstand and poured him a glass. 

He even sat on the bed beside Toby and helped him keep the glass upright as he brought it up to his mouth with shaky hands. 

He took a look at the bite mark on Toby’s arm but did not comment, merely going to the bathroom to fetch the little first aid kit and clean it up with alcohol.

He didn’t made any remark either on the fact that Toby’s new jacket and tie were lying scattered on the floor along with his cufflinks, but picked everything up, putting the jacket on the back of the chair with the tie, and the cufflinks on the bedside table. 

— “What happened?” He finally asked when Toby had recovered enough. “You seemed so happy earlier! What triggered this?” 

Toby looked down in silence. 

— “Is it the promotion? Are you scared of the new responsibilities? I know it must be really stressful for you, but you’re going to do great!” 

— “No, it’s…it’s not that…I mean yes, I am scared, but that’s not why I reacted like this…”

— “What is it, then?” 

— “I can’t tell you.” 

— “Why not? Toby, I promise, I just want to help. Whatever this is about, I’m not going to judge you!” 

It was tempting. So tempting to believe him, and tell him the truth, and just _talk_ to someone. 

— “What if you didn’t know everything about me…what if there was something I couldn’t talk about to anyone, something that would disgust you and make you hate me if you knew?” 

— “Toby, there’s nothing you could do that would make me hate you. Nothing. I could be mad at you, I could be bloody furious for a very long time…but hate you? Never!” 

— “You don’t know that…”

— “Well let me see. Are you having a secret relationship with Emma behind my back?” 

Toby looked up at his brother with a disgusted grimace. 

— “Eww…Freddie, that’s gross! Emma is like my sister!”

 _And a woman_. 

— “Alright then…I think we already established that you were not willingly leaking information to the Germans…”

Toby flinched. 

— “No, I’m not,” he murmured. 

— “Are you in fact a psychopath who enjoys raping and killing women and children?” 

— “Freddie!!” 

— “There you go,” his brother said, stroking his shoulder in a half playful, half-comforting gesture. “Those are the only three reasons I can think of that could make me hate you.” 

_That was a very close call last year, then_ , Toby thought with a shiver. 

The fact that Freddie had not listed “disgusting pervert who commits indecent acts with other men” as a reason why he could hate him was somehow comforting; but Toby wasn’t completely naïve, and he knew that those were not actually the only reasons his twin could have for hating him, just the first he could think of. And even if learning the truth didn’t make him hate Toby, it would still disgust him. Toby could already picture him taking his hand off his shoulder and stepping away from him as though he could get contaminated by contact. 

— “Toby?”

— “I…I can’t. I can’t tell you. I’m sorry…”

Freddie looked hurt, but sighed in resignation. 

— “Alright,” he said. “I understand. Rome wasn’t built in a day, was it?” 

Toby looked up at him with a silent apology in his eyes. 

— “Toby,” Freddie resumed talking after a pause. “I just want you to listen to me for a moment. I cannot make you trust me enough to tell me what got you so upset. But I know that whatever it is, it’s not worth it. I know that…that we have a different outlook on the world, and that we don’t react to the same situations in the same way. The way that you see things…it probably feels like they can't get better; and maybe…maybe they can’t. But you’ve got to stop hurting yourself like that over it. You’re not the reason why things get bad, Toby. You’re sensitive and kind and intelligent, and you deserve to have good things happen to you. Even though Father kept telling you that you didn’t. You know what he told me before…Before he passed? We were talking about…what he did to Mother, and he told me…He told me, “I took something beautiful and I destroyed it. Just because I could.” He was talking about Mother, but that…Toby that could apply to you as well.” 

— “So what?” Toby said with a dismissive, joyless little laugh. “You think he broke me like some toy?” 

— “No,” Freddie replied softly. “I don’t think he broke you, no more than he broke Mother. You’re too strong for that, much more than you think. Much more than he could ever imagine.” 

— “Do you really think that?” 

— “Yes, I do.”

Toby closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. 

— “Freddie?” 

— “Yes?” 

— “What would you do if Emma decided to leave you…because she thought she wasn’t worthy of you, and that you would be better off with someone else? Another girl from your own social circle?” 

Freddie looked at him in surprise. 

— “What? Why are you asking me that?” 

— “I…I just want to know what you would do. How you would react.”

Freddie’s eyes widened. 

— “Toby…are you in love with someone? Did she broke up with you? Did she just call you? Or did you find a letter in your room? Is that why you spiralled like this?” 

_She._

— “I’m in love with someone,” Toby admitted, knowing it was a risk, but also knowing Freddie would not get off his case if he didn’t. “And yes, that person broke up with me.” 

— “Toby…I’m awfully sorry! But who is she? Is it someone from work? It has to be! Why did you never talk about her? Did you think Mother would disapprove? Does Emma know?” 

Toby lifted a hand to stop his brother’s ramblings. 

— “Freddie…I can’t tell you anything more. I really can’t. And no, Emma doesn’t know, and you cannot tell her, or Mother. Please. I’m asking you…If you really want to help me…I’m asking you never to mention it to anyone, and not to question me any further about…that person.” 

— “Damned, Toby…is she _married_?” 

— “Freddie…”

— “Sorry, sorry…I…alright, I promise! No more questions!” 

— “And no mention of this to anyone? Freddie, this is really important. Do I have your word?” 

Freddie took a deep breath and bit his lip before looking at him straight in the eyes. 

— “You have my word.” 

— “On your honour as a soldier?” 

— “On my honour as a soldier.” 

Toby knew his brother would never break that promise. He felt bad about not telling him the truth – after all, if Freddie had known they were actually discussing something against the law, he would most probably have refused to swear on his honour. But what was done was done. 

— “So,” he said, trying to explain things as clearly as he could without telling too much. “The person I love…is jealous of another person…No questions, Freddie!...but also thinks that this person is better for me than they are. And it makes the person I love suffer, because they think that I’m staying with them out of habit, or duty, or because I don’t know any better. And they think that if they leave me, I will be free to be with the person they’re jealous of…but think is good for me…and I don’t want to be with that person, the second one. Not romantically. I like that person a lot, and I want to spend time with them, but just as a friend. I’m sure of it. And I could never find anyone more perfect for me than the person I love. But I cannot convince them of that. I cannot make them feel better about themselves. And I’m also thinking that…if that person is not happy with me, it’s better if I let them go. Because I feel the same way about them. That I’m not worthy of them, and that they can do so much better without me. Better than me. Am I…am I making any sense?” 

The expression on Freddie’s face was almost comical. He looked so puzzled that Toby felt he could as well have been reciting mathematical formulas.

— “Wait a minute…” he said slowly. “So you’re both in love with each other, but both think you’re not worthy of each other, and she wants to leave you so that you can be happier with another person, and you don’t think you can be, so you don’t want to lose her, but you still think it’s probably for the best if she leaves you because that way she can meet someone else she can be happier with?” 

_Ah. Not so puzzled after all._

— “Right, so I did make sense,” Toby said with a weak little chuckle. 

— “Toby, are you a complete idiot?” 

— “I…what?”

— “Did you not learn anything from my mess with Emma? When I thought breaking her heart myself was better than leave her heartbroken later if I died in battle? And I almost lost her in the process, because I was too damn proud and stubborn to admit that I had made a mistake? You remember that?” 

Toby did remember. 

— “Better is always the enemy of good, Toby. There’s no use imagining what could be. The only thing that matters is what exists right now. What you have. So tomorrow, you go find her, and you find a way to make her understand that she’s the only one for you, and that you’re made for each other no matter what. You take a stand, make a commitment. And you don’t let go.” 

— “It seems so easy when you put it like that…but I’ve tried…”

— “Well try harder. If you really love her, try harder. Do you really love her?” 

— “Yes,” Toby exhaled. 

_I really, really love him._

— “That’s what I thought,” Freddie commented. “And I dare say you’re right in that. Judging from what you’re telling me…that woman…she’s a keeper!” 

Toby had to hide a smile at that. 

_Oh, he’s a keeper alright_ , he thought. _Just not a woman_. 

— “Well, what do you say to that?” 

— “I say that you’re right.” 

— “So you’ll talk to her and do everything to get her back?” 

— “Yes.” 

_Please, let him be convinced._

Freddie smiled wide. 

— “That’s my brother.” 

Toby felt this twinge of guilt again, knowing that he had been lying by omission to his brother all along. He wished so much that he could come clean, say the truth, and say Adil’s name…but that would be the ruin of everything they had just achieved, and that would put Adil in danger. As much as he wanted to trust in his brother’s benevolence, that was a bet he could not afford to lose. He was not alone in this. 

— “Thank you, Freddie,” he said instead, trying to pour all of his heartfelt gratitude into his words. “You cannot imagine how much this means to me.”

Freddie smiled again, this time with a soft underlying tenderness. 

— “You’re welcome, Toby,” he answered. 

They embraced, longer than they had done in years, and for a moment Toby felt like he was a toddler again, and his twin brother was his whole world. 

They separated, both suddenly feeling a bit awkward. 

— “Freddie…”

— “Yes?” 

— “Why did you come to my room in the first place?” 

— “Oh, I had completely forgotten! I just didn’t feel like sleeping, and I wanted to know if you’d have a nightcap with me? I have some sherry in my room. And maybe play cards? Not chess, as I don’t much fancy having my pride handed over to me repeatedly.” 

— “Spoilsport,” Toby grinned. 

— “So are you in or not?” 

— “I’m your man,” Toby said. 

Sleep brought counsel, as the saying went. Apparently, so did a brother, a nightcap and a few rounds of cards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wasn't a fan of Freddie on the show, but this scene wouldn't leave my head and grew up into so much more than I had planned ! It kind of redeemed the character in my eyes. I hope you like it ! 
> 
> Please share your thoughts in the comments ! <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone ! 
> 
> Finally, I'm updating this story...this was supposed to be the last chapter but as usual, it turns out I had too many things left to write, so there'll be not one, but two other chapters after this one... The next one is well under way though so I shouldn't take too long to complete and post it. In the meantime, I hope you'll enjoy this one, if you had the patience to wait for it ! Thank you so much for your comments and kudos <3 
> 
> Warning : this chapter alludes to depression, anxiety and a past suicide attempt.

Toby had barely slept the previous night, but his mind felt clearer than it had in a while. 

He would never forgive himself if he didn’t take another chance at getting Adil back. Another chance to do things right. That’s all he was asking for. Maybe, just maybe, he had the right to at least try and keep this man by his side. A man he had never thought he could have in the first place, but who had somehow decided he was worth loving, worth throwing safety and propriety out of the window for. That initial, astonishing miracle had been threatened with annihilation once before, and it had almost cost Adil his life and Toby his heart. They may not be good at being together, but they were much worse at being apart. Both had been nothing but walking shadows after the d’Aberville disaster, when the emotion of that fateful rescue night had dissipated and they had found out the gap between them was still there, gaping and seemingly unbridgeable. Toby didn’t dare to imagine what Adil had endured, though his lover had lifted a little corner of the veil for him in the course of their past discussions – enough to make Toby’s barely mending heart shatter back into a million pieces – but he could still vividly remember his own cold, sleepless nights, and the moments when he could do nothing but curl in on himself and bite into his pillow to muffle his screams of anguish and guilt and frustration. 

Loneliness had been a familiar beast before. With practice, he had managed to tame it and even make it into an ally, an old friend he could retreat back to whenever his family or the pressure of social life became too much to bear. He called it solitude and it took on richer, less bleak colours as he peopled it with books and equations. It had come to the point when he thought he could confidently say he liked being left alone, in all senses of the term. But then Adil had come into his life, and solitude or loneliness or whatever it was he wanted to call it suddenly wasn’t tolerable anymore. It begged to be filled with affectionate looks and soft touches and heart-warming chuckles and words that could be soothing or teasing, encouraging or chastising, playful or grave, but words he craved more than food and drink, touches that took his breath away but simultaneously made him feel like he was actually breathing for the first time in his life, laughter that made his head light and his body warm. Loneliness made no sense when someone as perfect and radiant as Adil had once deigned to share his light with you. Adil had generously poured it all upon Toby and let him bask in it as he pleased, and when this light had suddenly stopped shining, Toby had withered like a plant left in a dark, airless room. He didn’t want to go through that again. He simply couldn’t. He refused to. He had not given up on them then, when everything seemed to be broken beyond repair and they both had such serious wrongs and grievances to overcome. It would be absurd to give up now, when nothing actually stood between them except for their own self-doubt. It would probably be more reasonable if they first worked on this separately. But it was also quite possible that they would never completely overcome it anyway. Was it really worth staying apart? Wouldn’t it be better if they agreed to try their best together, and to support each other no matter what? Granted, this was already what they had tried to do after getting back together the first time around. They had failed; but it didn’t mean they should not try again. It didn’t mean they could never succeed. 

Toby didn’t think much of himself, but he knew, in spite of all his shortcomings, that he loved Adil with all his heart and wanted nothing more than to make it work. Adil could find much better men, less flawed, nicer-looking, more suave men, no doubt. But Toby knew he would be hard pressed to find one who adored him more than he did. 

If anything, he owed it to Adil to make every possible effort to get him back. To prove to him once again that he was worthy of love, worthy of being first. To prove to him that he couldn’t be written off and replaced that easily, as he seemed to think he could be. As if he didn’t matter. 

_Get out. Disappear. There’s no place for you here and there never will be._

Toby had once said those words to him. He had looked him right in the eye and said them. How could he? How could he have been so monstrously heartless? 

_Forgive me, my love. I never meant to harm you so badly. I never meant any of that. How I wish I could take it all back! How I wish I could chase all those dark thoughts away and give you back all the light you gave me. How I wish I could make you see how much more beautiful you make the world every day. How beautiful you make my world._

Toby knew he wasn’t solely responsible for Adil’s state of mind. His lover had told him about these moments of gray dullness, of emotional emptiness, when every step seemed like his feet were made of lead, and every smile was mechanical and fake. He had told him of the cold little voice that infiltrated his thoughts and drained them of all joy, all purpose, all sense of self-worth and self-preservation. He had explained how it could desert him for days, weeks, months and then invade again without warning, without any particular reason even, and stealthily start gnawing at him again. It terrified Toby, this knowledge, and the powerlessness that came with it. He was grateful for the fact that Adil had trusted him enough to explain, to take the time to put words on his feelings, to try and make him understand what he had to live with, just like Toby had to live with his crippling anxiety and constant self-doubt. But he was also afraid, so afraid at the thought that Adil could seem fine one moment and yet unknowingly start slipping like sand between his fingers, towards depths of colourless, frozen despair where Toby maybe would not be able to reach him. Adil always knew what to do to talk Toby out of his frenzies and anchor him back onto safe ground. But Toby had a much less successful track record where Adil’s own mental well-being was concerned. And he could tell from experience that knowing how Adil could feel sometimes and actually noticing the tell-tales signs, then acting upon them the right way were two very different things. The core of the matter was that before Adil, Toby had had no one who truly needed him, who truly relied on him for support and comfort. And it was unsettling, especially when Adil looked so strong and collected compared to him. Even though his lover’s carefully crafted mask had fallen off in front of him several times now, Toby still had trouble processing the fact that he had to be Adil’s anchor too. 

_But you want to. And you want to do it better, to do it right. For him. Now go and find a way to make him listen._

As soon as breakfast was done and over with, he hurried off to the bar. Joe was the only client there, which was not a surprise, considering the early hour. Toby noticed with some relief that he was nursing what looked like simple black coffee and not anything alcoholic (unless he had added something less innocuous to the contents of his cup). Toby himself certainly had more of a drinking habit than was reasonable, but even he would have been concerned if Joe had been sipping bourbon at 9 in the morning. 

— "Hello there, Toby," the American said in his usual jovial manner. 

— "Good morning, Joe," Toby replied absent-mindedly, looking behind the counter. 

There was no bartender in sight. Adil’s shift should have started by now. Why wasn’t he there?

_Why wasn’t he there?  
What if he had not come in to work this morning? What if he had really not wanted to see Toby’s face again after what had occurred between them the previous night and thus called in sick?  
What if he was really sick?  
What if…  
What if he had been in the same state of desperation as Toby when he had left his room, and the dark voice had started nagging at him again, whispering awful things in his mind? Toby had felt positively distraught the night before, to the point that it had triggered the most severe anxiety attack he had experienced in years. If Adil had been going through something similar alone in his flat without anyone to help him through it as Freddie had done for Toby…could he have tried to harm himself again?  
Could he have succeeded?_

Toby felt like his heart had stopped beating. He barely had time to lean against the counter has a wave of dizziness overcame him. 

Joe was immediately by his side, steady hands gripping his shoulders. 

— "Toby, are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost." 

— "I’m fine," Toby answered in a voice he didn’t recognize as his own. 

— "I sincerely doubt that, kid. You’re awfully pale and unsteady on your feet." 

Toby forced himself to stand upright, gritting his teeth as he felt cold sweat covering his brow. 

— "It’s nothing…just vertigo. I didn’t sleep well last night." 

— "You should take better care of yourself, Mr New Team Supervisor," Joe replied in a joking tone, though he was still eyeing Toby worriedly. 

— "Have you seen Mr Joshi?" Toby croaked, unable to wait for a second more. 

— "Oh yes, he’s gone to the liquor store," Joe casually informed him. "Woah, easy there," he added in alarm as Toby staggered again, this time in relief. 

— "Thank you, Joe," Toby breathed. "Thank you…I’m fine, I…I need to…"

— "You need to sit down," Joe declared. 

Toby fought off the man’s well-meaning attempts at steering him away from the bar and into the lounge seating area. 

— "No, no, I…I have to talk to Adil…I mean…to Mr Joshi. I have something to tell him. It’s important…"

Joe’s eyebrows rose. 

— "Oh?" 

— "Yes, I…I was rather curt with him when he brought me my coffee last night, and I…I felt that I should apologize." 

It was probably the worst excuse he could have conjured up, and dangerously close to the truth. 

Joe smiled, with a gleam in his eye that Toby couldn’t quite place. 

— "Sure thing, kid. Apologies often go a long way, or so I’m told. You mustn’t wait one more minute then."

— "Right," Toby said, his heart beating furiously in his chest.

— "Adil didn’t seem quite like himself earlier," Joe added. "I suppose he didn’t sleep very well last night either. I’m sure he’ll be very glad to know you’re in such a hurry to make amends."

Toby grimaced a smile and started walking in the direction of the store, feeling Joe’s eyes still on him. 

_It doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean he knows anything. Everything is under control. Just keep walking._

He stepped cautiously among the rows of shelves, passing by each of them in turn, until he spotted Adil.

He was leaning over with his forehead resting against one of the shelves, eyes closed. Without anyone to see him, he had dropped all pretence, and Toby’s heart ached at how small and fragile he looked, how unbearably sad and lonely.

— "Adil…" he called in a low voice. 

The sound made Adil jump and he turned towards Toby with a startled gasp. Toby could see the strain from a sleepless night on his ever-beautiful face, dark rings under his eyes matching his own. 

— "Mr Hamilton," he said, straightening up to his professional pose, arms rigidly folded behind his back. 

Toby tried not to resent him for it. He had learned by now that it was one of Adil’s defence mechanisms, and he knew it was up to him to find a way past it.

— "Adil, we need to talk," he said softly. 

— "If it is about last night, I think we already talked it through," Adil replied without meeting his eyes. 

At least he had dropped the “Mr Hamilton”.

— "Did we?" Toby asked in the same soft voice. 

Adil looked up at him for a second before lowering his eyes again. 

— "I don’t know what else there is to say," he murmured. "I have to go back to the bar."

He moved away from the shelves, and flinched when Toby stepped in his way to stop him. 

— "Toby, please, let me go…"

— "I will," Toby assured. "But let me just ask you something. Do you feel relieved that we are not together anymore? Do you feel better and happier than you were yesterday?"

— "Toby…"

— "Do you?"

Adil sighed. 

— "No, of course not," he admitted. "But I didn’t think I would be. It’s not that simple, Toby. It’s going to take time. A lot of time. But it will be for the best in the end."

— "Adil, I don’t think it will," Toby replied. "I don’t think it is for the best. I think we’re torturing each other for nothing."

— "I know you don’t see the point of it now…"

— "No, I don’t see it, Adil. I really don’t. What I see is that you look exhausted and miserable, and I can’t bear that. What I know is that I felt like hell last night after you left, and I think there’s a good chance that you felt the same."

Adil didn’t answer, but his hands were shaking. 

— "Listen," Toby went on patiently. "All I’m asking is that you come up to my room on your break and hear me out. If you still want us to end things after you have, then I’ll stop pestering you. I promise. But I want one last chance to make you see things my way. Will you come? Please?"

Adil let out a long sigh.

— "I will," he said. 

Toby smiled in relief. It was far from a win, but at least he would get his chance. 

— "Thank you," he breathed. 

He was burning to add “my love”, but he knew he needed to keep those words to himself for now. 

It felt wrong, not saying them out loud when he wanted to. When they were alone and he actually could say it out loud. Every missed occasion seemed to be one more than they could afford. 

— "I really have to go now," Adil murmured. 

— "Yes," Toby replied. "See you later, then?"

— "Yes. Good day, Mr Hamilton."

Toby couldn’t help the twinge of hurt this time, even though he knew Adil was just being careful, stepping back into his bartender role before he exited the store room. He pushed the feeling away. He didn’t want anything petty and negative going in their way right now. There was too much at stake. He needed to make Adil feel his love, no matter what. 

— "Good day, Mr Joshi," he replied, pronouncing the name with all the softness and warmth he could muster, pouring the syllables out like they were honey on his tongue. Like they formed two entirely different words, the very ones he regretted he could not say a moment ago. 

Adil stilled for the shortest while, and Toby hoped he would turn back to look at him, but he didn’t. 

***

It seemed that time had never felt quite so long until Adil could take his break. Toby had all leisure to consider every possible worst case scenario that came to his mind, nearly working himself up into another anxiety attack in the process. He had bitten his bottom lip raw, and nervously run a hand through his hair so often that it looked like a ball of wool tangled up my mischievous children, without any trace of the pomade he had applied in the morning. He had also smoked about four cigarettes in a row. 

He jumped at the soft knock on the door, trying not to trip over his own feet as he rushed to open it. 

— "Adil!" He exclaimed once his lover was safely inside the room. 

— "Toby, I…What happened to your hair?"

The question caught Toby off-guard, and when he looked at Adil’s confused expression, he guessed that his lover had not exactly planned on starting the conversation that way either. 

They stared at each other for a few seconds before Toby felt an irrepressible fit of laughter bubble up in his chest. 

Adil joined in moments later, and they both guffawed until their stomachs hurt and their eyes filled up with tears, as their bodies suddenly let go of all the tension that had accumulated since the previous night. 

— "This is so ridiculous," Toby finally managed to utter, not sure whether he was talking about their unexpected reaction or the break-up. 

Adil let out a little strangled sound that was half nervous giggle-half sob, then proceeded to take deep breathes in order to regain his composure. Once he had, Toby’s own laughter died down. He suddenly remembered that nothing was settled between them. He could still mess this up and lose everything for good. 

— "Toby, why am I here?" Adil asked. "You said you wanted to talk to me, and I said I would listen. But do you really think it will make any difference? How can it change anything to what we discussed last night?"

— "It won’t change anything to it, perhaps," Toby admitted, biting his lip again and wincing as the abused skin finally ruptured and he tasted blood. "But if there’s even the slightest chance that it will, then I have to take it."

Adil looked at him without a word, visibly waiting for him to go on and say his piece. 

— "Adil, this is nonsense," Toby breathed. "We still love each other. None of us has done anything wrong this time. We have no real reason to break up. The only thing that stands between us is our fear of not being good enough."

Adil opened his mouth to say something but Toby raised a hand to stop him. 

— "No, please hear me out. Alistair…he is not the man I want, Adil, he is the man I want to be like! Someone handsome and elegant and socially savvy, someone with charm and charisma, who always knows the right thing to do or say, because that’s the kind of partner you deserve. That’s the kind of man who would be at your level. And I know you think that I deserve a rich, educated man of my own social standing…we both think that we are lacking and not worthy of each other, but maybe…maybe that’s precisely why we are perfectly suited to each other? I should never have let you go last night. I should never have said that we weren’t a good match. We both want what’s best for each other, and isn’t that the greatest proof of love there can be? I know you’ve not been happy with me lately. Clearly I’m not good at this. But I’m willing to keep trying, again and again, until I get it right. Because making you happy is the thing I want most in the world. So I’m asking you…please, let me try again."

Adil’s beautiful dark eyes were gazing at him, wide and shining with emotion. 

— "Toby…it’s not you who’s not good at this. I told you. It’s up to me not to feel so bad about myself and not to be so focused on your relationship with Alistair…"

— "Friendship," Toby corrected pointedly. 

Adil sighed. 

— "Toby, I understand what you’re telling me. Rationally, I do. And I would want nothing more than to forget everything about last night and just go back to normal. Or to what normal felt like when I wasn’t obsessed with that. But I can’t just turn the thoughts off like a tap."

— "I know that…" Toby said, disheartened. "But is there anything I can do to help? I know you said you didn’t want me to last night, but…I could stop seeing Alistair altogether. If you asked me to, if it was what you needed…I’d do it. In the blink of an eye."

— "And then you’d feel terrible about it, and rightfully so," Adil replied. "And I would feel even worse knowing I’m playing the tyrant and tearing you away from someone you care for and who cares for you, for no valid reason at all. This is not a healthy way of thinking, Toby. I would never, ever want to deprive you of anything. Least of all the freedom of spending time with whomever you please. I know that you would be willing to sacrifice that freedom for me, but it does not make me feel any better. It terrifies me, to know that you’d be ready to deny yourself so much for my sake."

— "The pot calling the kettle black," Toby couldn’t help saying.

Adil looked at him as if to say “See? Not healthy at all!”

Toby supposed he had a point, but then again, they had been working around their propensity to self-sacrifice and general stupidity rather well after getting back together the first time, up until Alistair’s arrival into their lives. 

— "There is one thing that I would like you to do," Adil resumed talking slowly. 

— "Yes?" Toby reacted eagerly. "What is it? Tell me and I’ll do it!"

— "I’d like you to call St-John and let him know that you accept his invitation to Oxford."

— "What??"

— "If you don’t go, I’ll keep asking myself what could have happened if you had. I’ll feel guilty for your missed opportunity, and we’ll have to wait to know the truth. If he doesn’t try to make a move on you when you’re alone, then…maybe I was wrong about him after all."

Toby took a deep breath. 

— "If you want me to go, I will. But only on one condition: whatever happens during this week-end, it will settle things between me and Alistair. If nothing particular happens, you will admit that he is nothing more than a friend and doesn’t want to be anything more. If he tries to make things go beyond friendship, I will say no, and you will respect my decision and not doubt my feelings or try to make me change my mind about it, whether Alistair and I stay friends after that or not. Can we agree on that?"

— "Yes," Adil answered. 

— "Do you promise me that you will not question my decision, and that you’ll at least consider giving us another chance after that?"

— "I promise…but Toby, you have to promise me something too."

— "Of course...Whatever you want…"

— "Promise me that if at any point you feel like you want things to go beyond friendship…if you want something to happen between you and Alistair this week-end…promise me you’ll let it happen."

— "Adil…"

— "No, Toby, you have to promise me…That you won’t restrain yourself because of me. I need to know that you will act and react freely. I give you my word that whatever happens…I won’t hold it against you later. Whatever your final decision may be."

— "Fine. I promise. But I won’t want anything to happen."

— "I have your word. And you have mine."

— "This is settled, then."

— "I guess it is."

They stood there looking at each other, itching for contact. Toby was the first to crack. 

— "Can I…can I take you in my arms?" He asked, bracing himself for a ‘no’. 

— "Oh, Toby…" Adil murmured. "Of course you can!"

The embrace was intense, full of promise and reassurance on Toby’s part, and just pure self-obliviating love on Adil’s. They didn’t feel the impulse to kiss, though. 

— "I love you," Toby whispered, nuzzling Adil’s hair. 

— "I love you too, Toby. So much. And I’m sorry…"

— "No, don’t be. We’ll fix this. I know we will."

— "You know, Toby…"

— "What?"

— "I really think you’ll make the most brilliant team supervisor."

Toby just held him closer, eyes shut and lips curling up into a smile.

***  
Freddie ushered him into his room with conspiratorial airs that made Toby fight the urge to roll his eyes. The twins had decided to meet there on the pretext that Toby would keep his brother company while he finished packing up (as though he had brought more with him from the base than a simple night bag).

— "So?" Freddie asked expectantly. "Did you manage to contact her?"

— "I gave a phone call," Toby replied, not specifying that the call had been to Alistair and not his imaginary girlfriend. "We’ve started working things out. We’re not out of the woods yet, but…there’s hope."

Freddie’s face lit up with a smile. The expression made him look younger, closer to his real age, boyish and carefree. It was like the burdens of war and lordship had been lifted from his shoulders for a moment. Toby thought it was a shame that he could not smile like that more often. 

— "I’m so glad," he said. "I’m sure she’ll come around. And I know you told me it was not possible at the moment, but…I really hope I can meet her one day."

Toby swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself to smile back.

— "I really hope so too," he said softly. 

— "I should go and say goodbye to Mother and Emma now," Freddie said, lifting the night bag from the bed and swinging it over his shoulder. "Meet me downstairs for the great send off?" 

— "Of course," Toby answered. "And Freddie…Please don’t get yourself killed."

— "I’ll do my best," his brother replied with a smirk. "Wouldn’t you just love to be Lord Tobias Hamilton, though?"

— "Very funny, Frederic," Toby replied drily. 

Freddie poked him on the shoulder. 

— "I’m not worried about your future, though," he said. "Just keep this up at work and you’ll find yourself a knight one day. “Sir Toby”. How does that sound, brother?"

— "Preposterous," Toby retorted, rolling his eyes, though he felt a secret thrill of pleasure at the compliment. 

Freddie laughed. 

— "Let’s go, shall we?" He asked grandly, and they walked out of the room in companionable silence. 

***

Toby barely had time to worry about the upcoming week-end in Oxford during the preceding days. His new position at work was mobilizing all of his energy and mental resources. Fortunately, as taxing as his new responsibilities could be, he had stepped into the role with relative ease (in spite of having had to take a few emergency trips to the gents to work himself down from a crisis on the first couple of days). The fact that his new team was incomparably more welcoming than the previous one was a major reason for it, he supposed. Unlike what Toby had feared, none of his four colleagues – three men and a woman – appeared intent on questioning his authority, though two of them were clearly older than him. All of them seemed dedicated and hard-working, and as prone to accepting suggestions as to offer their own. The woman, Eliza, reminded him a bit of Emma, in spirit if not in looks, and Stanley had Joe’s sense of humour. The other two, Christopher and Jeremiah, were equally nice if less familiar figures, and as the days of the week went by, Toby felt his confidence growing steadily. No one had yet seemed to deem him incompetent; work was getting done at an acceptable rhythm even though the change of offices meant that Toby was less familiar with the contents of the files; and being surrounded by intelligent, apparently like-minded people who regarded him with unprejudiced trust was doing wonders on his morale. He could and would be his best self with them. He would show them that he was worthy of winning their respect. They would do a good job together. 

When he came back to the hotel in the evenings, he still felt a twinge of regret and longing at the thought that Adil would not be coming to his room later. They had decided it would be better to give each other some space before the week-end, as painful as Toby found it to be. But each time they looked at each other across the bar, Adil smiled at him, and when Toby ordered his “confidence in a glass”, Adil always managed to say a few gentle words of encouragement, and when Toby was talking to Joe more at length about how he was doing at work – obviously keeping things vague and general and never mentioning confidential information or identifiable names – he knew that Adil was listening, and feeling happy for him. It felt almost like getting back to the days before they were together – almost. But they both knew now there was so much more they could share. So much and so little at once – but Toby would not trade that little for the world. He could only hope Adil would get to see things his way again before long. 

***

— "So…I gather you are going to see the St-John boy again this week-end?" Lady Hamilton asked over lunch. 

— "Yes, I am," Toby said. "He’s gone back to Oxford since yesterday and I’m meeting him there. I’ll be staying overnight." 

— "Where are you going to sleep?" 

— "At his place. He has a flat in town with room enough for guests."

— "And will you be the only guest staying there?"

— "Yes," Toby answered. "Why?"

His mother pressed her lips together in a thin line. She seemed preoccupied more than angry. 

— "You really do spend a lot of time with him, don’t you?"

Toby looked at her in surprise. Why was it a concern all of a sudden? 

— "I would hardly call once or twice a week a lot of time," he replied. "Besides, I thought you approved of me socializing more."

— "Socializing usually requires more than two people," Lady Hamilton retorted. 

— "It doesn’t seem to bother you when you’re trying to set me up with a girl," Toby replied acidly. "And for the record, we had tea with his friends just the other day. Why do you bring this up now? I thought you liked Alistair! You told me so yourself after you last saw him!"

— "He is certainly a very charming and well-mannered young man…"

— "But? "

— "But…He doesn’t strike me as a…ladies’ man. He seems more like the…confirmed bachelor type."

— "I…yes, I suppose," Toby answered, nonplussed. "He is a bit like me, I guess…"

— "That’s what I thought," Lady Hamilton murmured. 

She sighed. 

— "Are you alright, Mother?"

— "Yes…yes, I am. You do like him very much, don’t you?"

— "Well, yes, I do. He is a very good friend to me, and I enjoy his company. But I’m sorry, I’m failing to see the point of this…interrogation."

— "He seems to be very fond of you too," Lady Hamilton continued, ignoring his remark.

— "I…I don’t know about that," Toby stammered, blushing. "Yes, I guess he is, but it’s not my place to tell…"

— "So he didn’t?"

— "Didn’t what?"

— "Tell you that he was…fond of you?"

— "Mother, what exactly are you on about?"

— "Nothing…nothing, of course. Just…be careful, Darling. Be very careful," Lady Hamilton replied, suddenly teary-eyed. She wrapped him in a fierce embrace. 

Toby didn’t know what disconcerted him the most: his mother’s sibylline words, her embrace or the fact that she had used a pet name for the second time in less than two weeks. He was so struck that he barely remembered to hug her back. Once he did, though, he didn’t feel like letting go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this story is slowly turning into "how oblivious can I make Toby" ! :D 
> 
> Next one will be centered on him and Alistair. 
> 
> Comments and kudos make my day ! <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, 
> 
> So this time I'm posting two chapters at once, since it was originally the same one that I had to cut in two. Once again, I'm sorry they are so long! 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy them anyway. 
> 
> The next one should be the last one ! 
> 
> Warning : brief mentions of animal cruelty and child abuse (all in the past)

The moment he saw Alistair standing on the platform at the train station, waiting for him, Toby knew he had been a fool for blindly offering Adil never to see him again. He felt warmth spreading in his chest as the other man spotted him and smiled. His feelings had been mostly negative when they had spoken on the phone, still preoccupied as he was with his conversation with Adil; but now that he was seeing him in the flesh again, the usual sense of trust and kinship overcame him. The affection he felt for Alistair was different from the one he had for Freddie or Joe; but it was also worlds apart from what he felt for Adil. That much was clear; nevertheless, Toby knew he would grow more and more attached to him over time if they kept seeing each other. He rarely had a chance to give away his love, but when he did, he longed to give it all and for good. He already knew against all odds that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Adil, and he was quite ready to form a life-long bond of friendship with Alistair. If only it could be what the other man wanted too. Friendship, and nothing more. 

The two men exchanged their greetings, Alistair asking whether Toby’s journey had not been too tiring. 

— “It felt odd to take that ride again,” Toby confessed. “It’s been two years since I last came here, but somehow I feel like it’s been much longer. Almost like a different life time.”

— “I see what you mean,” Alistair answered. “It’s not even been that long for me, but it does feel like two worlds apart.” 

It wasn’t that War had not changed Oxford as well as the rest of England; male students had largely deserted the University Colleges, replaced with soldiers and the female staff of the governmental institutions that had moved there from London. Rationing was in force there as well, and students also had to do chores and work in the plant gardens to make up for the shortage of labour. But walking through the streets of the historical centre, miraculously spared by the Blitz, one could actually be under the impression that the city was in a bubble, like one of those trinkets you could shake up to make fake snow fall. It looked out of time and magically protected from destruction and bloodshed. 

Once they were on campus grounds, Toby was swept up by an overwhelming sense of homecoming. He had been lonely there, but he had also been happy in his own way. Far from his family, free to dedicate himself to his intellectual pursuits, free to spend hours and hours at the library, immersed in his research, without anyone to tell him when to eat or what to do or how to dress. And he had actually managed to earn some pleased looks and comments from his professors, then his supervisors as a young researcher, instead of being perpetually faced with his father’s disappointment. 

As though echoing his thoughts, a voice hailed him as he was showing Alistair around the buildings of the Department of Mathematics. 

— “Hamilton! Toby Hamilton!” 

— “Professor Finch,” Toby exclaimed, recognizing the old man in tweeds. “How do you do?” 

— “Very well, very well, thank you!”

Professor Archibald Finch had been his algebra teacher and mentor. Other students tended to mock him for his old bachelor ways and general misanthropy outside of class, but Toby had always liked him, perhaps seeing him as a possible version of what he would be in the future. At the time, he was very much convinced he would grow old alone – that is, if he managed to get out of his mother’s marrying schemes – and live a quiet life dedicated to his research. Finch had taken a similar liking to him, and had always encouraged him, providing book references and other such material and generously offering advice whenever Toby was stuck on one of his research papers. Seeing him again awoke all sorts of emotions, chief among them gratitude and nostalgia. There had been days when an approving smile from the quaint old professor had been the only thing that kept Toby from falling apart. 

— “It is nice to see you again,” he said with a warm smile, wishing he could say so much more. 

— “Likewise, young man! Last I heard of you, you were planning to apply for a government job, am I right? I trust that went well?”

— “It did, thank you,” Toby replied. “I got a position at the War Office…I’m afraid I cannot say much about it…”

— “Of course you can’t,” the man cut him off good-naturedly. “You look like you’re in good health, so at least you are not working yourself to death. You know what they say about all work and no play…that’s good for old fellows like me, not strapping young men like you!” 

Toby fought back a chuckle at being called a “strapping young man”. 

— “I’m doing pretty well, thank you, Sir” he replied. 

He appreciated that the other man didn’t ask whether he had a fiancée. 

— “Well I hope we’ll have you back once this terrible mess is over…your work was very promising, young man, very promising indeed!” 

— “Thank you, Professor,” Toby answered with a smile. “I definitely hope I can come back.” 

He realized he really meant it. He wanted to come back. Even if he had an opportunity to continue his career as a civil servant after the War, the idea didn’t appeal to him half as much as that of going back to his first love and resuming his research, and maybe one day being as good a teacher as Professor Finch was. If only he could find a way to make it work with Adil…if only he agreed to come here with him! There were plenty of nice pubs and cafés around, and they would be sure to need staff once the War would be over and the students would be back…

_You don’t even know if he will agree for you to get back together. Now you’re already starting planning for him to uproot his entire life to follow your whims? Way to go, Toby!_

But he didn’t want to think like that. He couldn’t think like that. He had to think that things would work out and that they would both find their happiness following a common path. He had to, or he would not be able to keep moving forward at all. 

He forced himself to keep smiling and exchanged a few more pleasantries with Professor Finch, introducing Alistair to him and watching him work his charm on the old man, before they took their leave and resumed their tour of the grounds. 

— “Are you alright, Toby?” Alistair asked after a while. 

How could he so easily pick up on his moods? It was almost frightening sometimes. Toby was feeling like an open book and the vulnerability would have been uncomfortable with any other person. 

— “Yes,” he lied. “I’m just feeling a bit nostalgic is all.”

— “Are you sure? I do not mean to pry, but…you sounded out of sorts when we talked on the phone, and I was worried something bad might have happened.”  
— “Oh!” Toby exclaimed, feeling guilty at the thought that he might have sounded cross with Alistair on the phone that day. “No, no, I assure you everything is alright…I was going to see my brother off right after I called you, so…I might have sounded a bit preoccupied, but I’m fine, and so is he!”

Alistair nodded sympathetically. 

— “Oh, I see! That’s completely understandable. It must have been hard to see him go. I’m glad you were able to spend some quality time together, though.”

— “We did,” Toby said with a real smile this time. The moments he had shared with Freddie the previous week were precious memories indeed. Their complicity in this trying moment had made him feel like a part of him that had been torn off a long time ago had finally been sewn back into place, the stitches still a bit stiff but bound to feel natural again after a while, as though the severed part had never been missing at all. 

They talked about Freddie a bit longer, then Toby asked about Alistair’s brothers. He knew Gerald had recently suffered an arm injury, but he was apparently recovering well, and Edgar remained unscratched – which had led the men in his unit to see him as their lucky charm. So far, they had had no reason to regret their superstition. 

They headed to a nearby pub for lunch, and Toby couldn’t help looking at the premises with much more interest than he would normally have, his mind getting ahead of itself again as he wondered whether Adil would enjoy working in such a place. 

— “I trust the suit is still to your liking then?” Alistair asked with a smile when Toby took off his coat, revealing the new outfit. 

— “Yes,” Toby answered. “It’s made… quite an impression at home.”

— “A good one, no doubt?” 

— “You could say that, yes,” Toby replied, averting his eyes. 

He didn’t want to think about his fight with Adil. 

Alistair didn’t press the matter. 

Before he knew it though, Toby found himself entranced by their conversation as usual, and managed to momentarily stop the overactive cogs in his mind from turning. 

After lunch, they continued to stroll around for a while, before finally deciding to head to Alistair’s flat. Toby was curious to see what it would look like. He had been living on campus for his whole time as an Oxonian, even after becoming a junior researcher, but from what he had gathered, Alistair actually owned his flat, and could arrange it exactly how he wanted to. What Toby was most interested about, though, were the books. He knew he would feel the urge to peruse the titles on the shelves as soon as he would be in their presence. It was not a very polite thing to do, he was aware of that, but having discussed it with Alistair sometime prior, he knew it was a habit they shared. So he didn’t think the man would be offended by his interest. 

***

As he was unlocking the front door, Alistair suddenly stopped. 

— “I forgot to ask! You’re not allergic to cats, are you?” 

— “Not that I know of,” Toby answered. 

He had never had a cat. The only pets he had ever been in the frequent vicinity of were the family dogs. 

— “Heavens, I really hope you won’t start sneezing,” Alistair commented humorously. “I would feel like a terrible host!” 

Knowing how lucky he was with this kind of things, Toby thought there was a good (or rather, bad) chance that he would indeed start sneezing, and be covered with angry-red nettle rash marks within minutes. But he didn’t want to say so. 

Alistair finally opened the door and Toby had to blink at the sight before him. He remembered his own small and sparsely furnished rooms, and was in no way prepared for the aspect of Alistair’s flat. 

There were thick, warm-coloured Turkish carpets on the floor, a plush sofa with cushions, a big rocking chair in a corner, lavish brocade curtains at the window, a beautiful mahogany desk with an Art Nouveau-style lamp, and rows and rows of bookshelves on the walls. But what struck Toby’s eyes the most was the piano, which somehow managed to fit into the room without making it appear ridiculously cramped. Although the arrangements were undeniably luxurious, it was clear that none of these objects or pieces of furniture had been chosen as a way of showing off wealth. They had all been selected to meet Alistair’s own taste and as a means of creating a cosy, aesthetically pleasing decor where he could feel entirely at home. 

— “My God, Alistair,” Toby exhaled. “This is beautiful!” 

He had never thought he cared for material things, but he felt a little twinge of regret at the thought that he could no longer afford anything like that. The new suit had already made a rather significant breech into his finances, even taking into account the pay raise that would come with the promotion. Not that he would tell Alistair any of that, of course. If there was one rule Toby knew to abide by in the world of aristocracy, it was that you never, ever talked about money. 

Alistair looked at him with a radiant smile. 

— “I’m so glad you like it,” he said in a warm voice. “Please, do come in!” 

No sooner had they crossed the threshold that a big ginger cat with fluffy hair jumped from the sofa where he had been resting and walked up to them, rubbing himself against Alistair’s legs and meowing. 

— “Yes, sweetie, I’m back,” Alistair said, leaning down to pet the animal. 

To Toby’s surprise, the cat didn’t miss a bit and moved on to his own legs, leaving some russet hair on his trousers in the process. 

Toby braced himself anxiously for a sneeze, but nothing happened.

The cat casually lay down with his head resting on Toby’s shoe. 

Still nothing. 

— “Come on, Algie, leave Toby alone,” Alistair gently chided, as he would have done with an overly enthusiastic puppy – or child. 

Toby couldn’t help chuckling as he remembered the initial misunderstanding over Alistair’s phone call at the café. 

Alistair looked up at him at the sound, looking flustered. 

— “I apologize,” he said. “I can’t help being silly like this whenever I’m around cats. Especially mine. Please do not pay me any mind.” 

— “Don’t apologize,” Toby said, smiling. 

He carefully removed the tip of his shoe from underneath the cat’s head and moved further into the flat on Alistair’s trail. The cat immediately rose up and followed.   
It took them a moment to locate the other furry tenant of the flat. It was a black cat, of shorter and leaner built than the ginger one, and much less hairy. He was also evidently more wary of strangers, for he didn’t move from the top of the bookcase on which he was perched and merely stared wide-eyed at the intruder, his ears slightly inclined towards the back of his head. 

— “Here you are, you old grumpy thing,” Alistair addressed him affectionately. 

He raised his arm and brought his hand close to the animal’s muzzle, letting him make the first move and rub the side of his head on his hand. The cat then proceeded to use Alistair’s shoulders as a stepladder to get down from the bookshelf. Toby watched in puzzled amusement as his friend hunched forward to allow the animal to stand there with two paws on each side of his neck like a strange living stole for a minute, before jumping down and darting towards the slightly ajar door that Toby assumed led to Alistair’s bedroom or another part of the flat. He slipped through the slight opening with the agility of a snake. Toby felt an odd sense of sympathy towards the animal. How often he had wished he could just sneak out and hide away in some inconspicuous corner instead of having to deal with social obligations! 

— “That was Jack,” Alistair said. “He’s not very fond of strangers, I’m afraid. I can’t blame him: he is a stray, and he wasn’t in very good shape when I took him in. Black cats have it rougher than most, I reckon. All these superstitions and prejudices die hard. He’ll probably show up again later, though. And this – pointing down to the ginger cat, who was still circling around them with his tail upright and rubbing himself against their legs, visibly trying to catch their attention – is Algernon. As you’ve probably noticed, Algie’s the cuddly type.” 

At hearing his name, Algernon meowed, and he looked so endearing that Toby couldn’t resist the impulse to stoop down and pet him.

— “Is he a stray too?” He asked. 

— “No. My housekeeper, Mrs Garrick, has a sister whose cat had a litter of four. Their masters couldn’t keep them all, so she brought me this one. It’s been quite complicated to get Jack to accept his new little brother. I still don’t think he really likes him, but at least they seem to have reached an understanding.” 

Alistair invited Toby to follow him and take his night bag to the small but tastefully arranged guest room, then they went back to the living room where, after the foretold perusing of bookshelves, and a battle over who would get to take the rocking-chair, they finally agreed to sit on a pair of light wicker armchairs.

As soon as they were settled, Algernon jumped on Toby’s lap and started clawing at his thighs while purring enthusiastically. 

— “Ouch!”

— “Sorry, sorry! I’ll take him off!”

— “What is he doing?” 

— “He is making himself comfortable. Basically by making you uncomfortable in the process. I believe cats have a sadistic streak.”

Alistair was about to remove the cat from Toby’s lap, but Toby gestured to stop him. 

— “No, it’s fine, don’t move him.”

— “Are you sure?” 

— “Yes…”

— “As you wish,” Alistair said with a smile as he sat back in his armchair. 

Once the needle-like pain of sharp claws had receded and the cat was properly settled on his lap, Toby thought it felt rather nice. 

Something about this warm, furry, flexible creature vibrating softly on his legs was appeasing. Toby tentatively ran a hand through the thick coat of hair, making the animal purr louder. The sound filled him with unexpected joy. 

No sneezing. No rash. Apparently he wasn’t allergic to cats after all. And that was good news, since he could already see himself falling in love. 

He wondered if Adil liked cats. He thought he would. They were alike in a way: beautiful and elegant, mysterious and independent. Worshipped as Gods in some civilisations of old. Toby could picture his lover holding one in his arms or letting it climb up on his shoulders like Alistair had done earlier. It would look riveting.   
They had never really discussed pets, except for the time Adil had told him his grandfather had given him a tame mongoose when he was a child back in India, and how sad he had been when he had had to leave it behind in his cousins’ care to come to England. Toby had been fascinated, immediately thinking about Rudyard Kipling’s _Rikki Tikki Tavi_ story, which had delighted him as a boy. Adil’s less than impressed reaction had triggered a rather heated conversation about colonialism and pets had been entirely forgotten.

Jack eventually appeared in the room again. Apparently acknowledging that Toby didn’t pose any immediate threat, he finally gathered the courage to walk past him and sprang up unto Alistair’s lap, where he sat sphinx-like, his green eyes peering rather disgruntledly at his 'brother', still unashamedly spread out over Toby’s thighs. 

Alistair was gazing at him with a soft expression on his face and Toby was struck with how domestic the scene looked. It was an odd thought. He pushed it away and started asking a few more questions about Jack’s past misadventures to break the silence. 

He almost regretted it after learning the poor cat had nearly lost an eye due to an injury he had when Alistair had found him, and that the veterinarian had found multiple other contusions that were probably caused by human mistreatment. Toby wondered how anyone could be cruel enough to inflict pain on an innocent creature just because it happened to have the wrong fur colour. But of course, people mistreated other people because they happened to have the wrong skin colour too. The wrong skin colour, the wrong gender, the wrong religion, the wrong love. 

— “It doesn’t show,” he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. “He looks beautiful. You took great care of him.” 

— “It was the least I could do,” Alistair replied, petting the animal as he spoke. “And he gives me so much love back in his own way. They both do.” 

They continued talking for a while, moving from cats to books to music, and Toby finally dared to ask whether Alistair could play something. The man was happy to oblige, and gently picked Jack up from his lap, depositing him on the sofa before going to sit at the piano. Toby didn’t dare to do the same with Algernon. He just wiggled awkwardly until the cat got the message and jumped down. He then brought his armchair nearer to the instrument, in order to be able to look at the movements of Alistair’s hands while he played. It had always fascinated him just as much as the music itself. He often tried to discretely watch Sonny’s hands at the Halcyon too, though Jazz was completely different from classical music in terms of rhythm and dexterity. 

As he was moving closer, Toby noticed the framed photograph on the piano. A teenaged, glasses-free but still easily recognizable Alistair was smiling at the camera, arms wrapped around the shoulders of a girl around the same age, rather frail-looking, but very pretty, with delicate features and the same warm smile as the boy. 

— “Is it your sister?” He asked, though he already knew what the answer would be. 

— “Yes. It’s Helena,” Alistair replied, soft tenderness seeping through his voice. “It is probably my favourite photograph of us. I like having it nearby when I play.”

— “I can see why,” Toby said, heart filling up with emotion. “You both look so happy!” 

— “We were,” Alistair answered. “It was always such a joy to see her at the station when I came back from Eton for the holidays! Of course we wrote each other letters almost every week. Mother often wondered what on earth we could find to tell each other in such a short amount of time.”

Toby remembered how he had treasured the letters Emma and his mother had sent him at Eton. He read them over and over until he could almost recite them by heart. But they were not nearly as numerous as what he would have liked. He certainly didn’t get one letter a week. Once again, he realized that he could have met Alistair back then. They had had two years of presence in common. And once again, he felt convinced that there would have been no chance in hell for them to become friends at that time, even if they had been aware of each other’s existence. Even if Alistair had already been his generous, outgoing self then, and had actually deign to extend a friendly hand to him, Toby knew his own teenage self would have reacted like a frightened hedgehog and retreated inside his prickly armour for fear of being made fun of, ridiculed and left bleeding in a corner. It was probably for the best that they had met when they had. 

Alistair played Beethoven’s _Moonlight sonata_ and part of Schumann’s _Forest scenes_ before stopping and turning towards Toby. 

— “It’s beautiful,” Toby exhaled. “Please go on!” 

Alistair looked at him intently before asking: 

— “Would you like to try and play a few notes?”

Toby bit his lip. Part of him felt drawn towards the instrument as he had always been, but another part was reluctant, smelling danger, wary of punishment and pain, as though Lord Hamilton’s threatening shadow was still hovering over his shoulder, ready to crush his imprudent fingers under his fist. 

_He is not here. He is dead. You can do whatever you want now._

— “I…yes, alright,” he finally said. 

Alistair stood up and gestured for him to take his place on the stool. 

Toby hesitantly pressed one key, then another, wincing as the sound came out discordant. 

— “Here…”Alistair said, leaning over Toby’s shoulder. His hands lightly landed over Toby’s. “I’ll show you…”

It was the first time he had ever initiated any kind of physical contact. 

Toby knew he ought to stop it, that it was too dangerous. It could only blur the line between friendship and _more_. He couldn’t encourage that. But Alistair’s hands were soft and very gentle on top of his, as though Toby’s hands were shy creatures he didn’t want to scare off. And Toby didn’t feel scared. 

_Act and react freely._

Alistair started slowly guiding his fingers over the keys. 

Toby was very aware of their proximity, but he didn’t feel the sparks that had run through him the first time his fingers had lingered over Adil’s around his glass at the bar. It felt nice and warm, but not particularly exhilarating. 

They went through the first notes of Bach’s _Prelude in C Major_. Toby felt a sudden hope at the thought that perhaps it wasn’t too late for him to learn. He would never be a good musician, but maybe, with enough practice, he could manage to play a few simple pieces? 

Just as he was getting lost in the serenity of the moment, Alistair drew a sharp breath and abruptly removed his hands. 

Toby pivoted on the stool to look at him, surprised. Had he done something wrong? 

— “Toby, I…There is something I need to tell you.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for : mentions of past child abuse (corporal punishment)
> 
> mentions of Nazi persecutions

— “Yes? What is it? What’s wrong?”

Toby had never seen such a look on Alistair’s face. It was a mix of fear and hope, something so emotional and intense it looked near painful.

He didn’t have time to feel scared about what that could mean; Alistair had already started speaking again, with the slightest tremor in his voice. 

— “Toby, I think you’re aware of how highly I think of you, and how much I enjoy the time we spend together… and I…I’d be immensely happy and honoured if you would consider the possibility of us being…more than friends.”

Toby froze. 

— “I…I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” he said, his own voice sounding strained to his ears. 

Alistair looked torn, but he soldiered on. 

— “I mean I had hoped that we could be…partners. Companions.” 

Toby just stared at him, still refusing to envision that this could be actually happening. 

Alistair took another sharp breath and let it out, no longer trying to hide his emotion: 

— “Oh God help me…Toby, I…I think I’ve fallen in love with you. No, I don’t think so. I know so. And what I’m asking you is whether you would want to be with me…romantically. As my partner and my lover.” 

Toby was gobsmacked. He knew he must look like a fish out of water, but he couldn’t care less. This was the most daring, reckless thing he had witnessed ever since that day Adil had kissed him in the wine cellar. 

He knew he had to say something, and quick. Alistair was growing paler by the second, and Toby could see fear in his eyes, this terrible, abject fear he knew all too well, this fear of having trusted the wrong person, of being caught, exposed, shamed and lost forever. 

— “Alistair, I… I can’t. We cannot be together in this way,” he blurted out. 

Alistair put a hand on the nearby bookshelf to steady himself.

— “But… I was right, wasn’t I? You…you are like me, aren’t you?” He asked, his voice shaking and frantic. Toby had never seen him lose his composure like that, but he really couldn’t blame him. 

— “Yes!” He hastily said, finally putting him out of his misery. “Yes, yes, you were right…God, I…yes! I’m like you!” 

It felt eerie to hear himself say those words out loud. How often he had dreamed of hearing them himself before meeting Adil, and even after… _I’m like you. You are not alone_. 

_Adil…Adil has been right all along._

— “Oh thank God,” Alistair breathed in relief. Only then did the impact of Toby’s words seem to fully reach him, and he visibly deflated.

— “But you…you do not feel that way about me,” he said, and it sounded more like a mournful statement than a question. 

— “No, I don’t,” Toby answered, feeling awful for crushing his hopes like that. “Alistair, you’re a very attractive man, and I do care about you very much, but I…I cannot be with you. I’m in love with someone else. He loves me too, and we…we’ve been together almost two years now.”

He looked anxiously at Alistair’s face, bracing himself for the disappointment and sadness he knew would not fail to appear on it. Toby hated the idea of hurting him. It would have been hard enough to reject him had he expressed a simple infatuation, but a declaration of love…that made it so much worse! And yet there was nothing Toby could do about it, except trying to soften the blow as much as he could.

Alistair closed his eyes and let out a long sigh before asking: 

— “It is the bartender isn’t it? Mr Joshi?” 

— “Yes,” Toby exhaled. 

It felt so strange, saying all this to someone else. Strange but good. So good. He had always imagined it would be scary, terrifying even, but the fact that Alistair was like them…it made him feel safe and understood in a way he had never hoped to be. 

— “I had guessed there was something between you two…but I hoped…forgive me, I hoped it was just a fling, and that I still had my chances, him being a member of staff, I didn’t think…maybe I didn’t want to think it could be serious. I see now that I was wrong. Please believe me when I say that I mean no disrespect to you, or to him…I do not mean to belittle him or demean your relationship. I was just selfish and stupidly fooling myself…forgive me if I have ever imposed on you or caused you any inconvenience…” 

— “No, you haven’t. You’ve been a perfect gentleman, and a good friend, and I am truly sorry if I have ever done anything to lead you on…It was never my intention!”

— “You have nothing to be sorry for, Toby,” Alistair replied. “I just…I tried to make you understand before, and you weren’t really taking any of my hints, but you weren’t clearly rejecting me either and God, I just had to be sure…I just had to try…”

He let out another deep breath. 

Toby felt ashamed of himself. If he had listened to Adil from the start, and if he had just been a little braver, he could have spared all three of them lots of trouble and heartache. 

— “I feel like I’ve been such a fool,” he said. “I never meant to send mixed signals…”

Alistair shook his head. 

— “If anyone has been a fool, it’s me, for thinking I ever had a chance, even though I suspected that you were already involved with someone else.”

— “You said you noticed something going on between me and Adil…Toby couldn’t help saying, as a wave of anxiety overtook him. Are we really that obvious? Do you think everyone can see it?” 

— “Not everyone,” Alistair replied. “Most people don’t see things even when they are blatantly flashed under their noses, because they don’t know what to look for or don’t care. I did. In fact, I started feeling curious the moment you mentioned his bartending skills, and then, when I saw what he looked like…well, let’s just say it didn’t do anything to assuage my fears. Any man that handsome you interacted with in a friendly way was bound to attract my attention.”

Toby felt a strange mix of pride and possessiveness at hearing another man call Adil handsome – even though that man said he was interested in him and not Adil.  
— “When did you start thinking that I might be…that way?” He asked. “Was it because of the way I talked about him or…something else?”

Here it was again, the fear that his difference might be somehow written on his face for everyone to see. 

— “Well, I had hopes before,” Alistair answered. “There was the way you reacted when we were talking about girls and marriage…The fact that you didn’t want to dance…some things you said or reacted to at that café the first time we went out together…none of that was conclusive of course. But the moment that really made me believe I was right was when you said you understood what I meant when I told you I was one of the uncles.”

— “Yes,” Toby breathed. “That was also the moment when I started to suspect something…but I was too cowardly to confront you about it later. And I also enjoyed your company too much to take the risk of ruining everything.” 

— “Which I probably just did, didn’t I?” Alistair murmured. 

— “No!” Toby exclaimed. “No, you didn’t! It doesn’t…it doesn’t have to change anything between us…I wish…I mean, I hope…I really hope we can still be friends!”

As he was speaking though, he realized it would not be that simple. Alistair could not pretend that he was seeing him as nothing more than a friend, and it would inevitably cause him more pain to be around Toby as he used to than to take his distance with him, at least for a while. And now that the cat was out of the bag, Toby couldn’t ignore the effect that that revelation would have on Adil. For his sake, he couldn’t leave any room for doubt. 

— “We will always be friends, if it is what you wish,” Alistair replied. “But it still won’t be the same, will it?” 

Toby knew he was right, as much as he wished it weren’t so. 

They just looked at each other for a while. 

— “I…I should probably go now,” Toby finally said, breaking the awkward silence that was settling between them. He stood up clumsily. 

— “No, please, don’t…don’t feel like you have to go,” Alistair replied in earnest. “I mean if you want to, obviously, I’ll completely understand, but if…If you would be so kind as to stay a little longer… I promise I won’t say or do anything improper. But if it is the last time I ever can enjoy your presence in this way…I’d rather make it last.” 

Relief washed over Toby as he realized he himself didn’t want to go at all. He too wanted to enjoy Alistair’s presence for a while longer. There were also a hundred questions he wanted to ask him. When and how had he known that he was different from other men? How did he acquire his past experiences – for Toby was quite sure he had had a few –? How did he manage to get through life with this secret to hide, and how did he feel about it? But wouldn’t it be a bit indelicate to start pestering him with all these interrogations, some of them very intimate and thus probably grossly indiscreet, when he had just rejected his love? 

He hesitated a second too long, though, for Alistair’s face fell and he looked down in embarrassment. 

— “Forgive me,” he said. “This is stupid, I should let you go, I don’t want to be a burden…”

— “No!” Toby exclaimed. “No, Alistair, you’re not!”

He knew everything about feeling like a burden, and he didn’t want to ever make Alistair feel that way, he who had been so kind and considerate to him.

— “I really want to stay. I do,” he insisted. “I just don’t want to hurt you any more…”

Alistair looked up at him and his lips curled up into a tender smile. 

— “You’re a gentle soul, Toby,” he said.

Toby opened his mouth and closed it, unable to find anything to reply. Alistair’s praise always caught him unprepared, and in this case, he really didn’t feel like he had done anything to deserve it. 

Alistair took his cigarette case out of his pocket and wordlessly offered him one. 

They moved away from the piano and this time, Alistair elected to sit in the rocking chair while Toby took the wicker armchair the man had previously occupied – having left his by the piano. 

They just smoked in silence for a little while, until Toby found the courage to start talking.

— “No one knows about me,” he said. “My family…my friends…I couldn’t tell anyone. I was too scared. I am still too scared. I almost told my brother last week…but I couldn’t bear the thought that he would no longer look at me the same way. That he would feel disgusted.”

Alistair’s brows furrowed. 

— “Did he ever tell you anything that made you think he was disgusted by our kind?” 

— “No…but isn’t it the way most people would react?” 

— “Many, I suppose…But you can always be surprised, in a good way…unfortunately the price to pay is so high that we can rarely afford to take that chance.”

— “I think maybe my mother is starting to suspect something…there are things she said…I didn’t want to believe it, but…the more I think about it, the more I think that’s really what she meant.” 

— “And did she sound disgusted or angry?” 

— “No…”

Toby’s eyes widened at the realization. 

— “No, she…she seemed to be worried about me. About what could happen to me.” 

— “That’s understandable…But it’s a very good thing. It means that she cares. That she still sees you as her son, and that she wants you to be safe and will do everything she can to protect you.”

Toby tried to process that. He had grown closer to his mother since d’Abberville’s timely death, and he knew she had been trying in her own stunted, clumsy way to show him that she loved him and cared for his happiness. But to imagine she could ever accept this kind of happiness for him…

— “Your mother…does she know about you?” He asked. 

— “I never told her anything. But I think she’s always known that I was different. She never tried to set me up with girls, unlike my brothers.” 

— “I’m afraid I cannot say the same about mine,” Toby murmured. 

Alistair grimaced in sympathy. 

— “What about your aunt and uncle, and Henry?” Toby couldn’t help adding. “You seem so close to them…”

— “I am…but I have never told them the truth either. Aunt Eleanor is like my mother, she just takes me as I am and doesn’t try to find out more than she needs to. For my uncle and Henry, though…I’m not sure they’d understand. I love them both dearly, and Henry and I shared so many good times growing up…but I feel about him like you do about your brother. I don’t want him to look at me any differently. I confess that I prefer to have him teasing me for being an eccentric bachelor over facing his judgment or anger. In fact, the only person in my family I’ve ever told was Helena.”

— “Really?? How did you tell her? How did she react?” 

— “Once again, I think part of her always knew, since my character in our stories never ended with any of the princesses and fay women that we wrote about. Usually the fictional me was deeply devoted to another knight and stayed by his side for ever and ever. She stopped questioning it before long. Then one day when I was fourteen and she was thirteen, we were reading Sense and Sensibility together, and she asked me whether I would like to marry Marianne or Elinor…and I told her the choice for me would actually be between Colonel Brandon and Edward Ferrars.”

He smiled at the recollection. 

— “She stayed silent for a while, then she just said that she understood what I meant, and that she would never tell anyone. She took me in her arms, and we left it at that. She didn’t judge me, and she never betrayed me.” 

Toby realized that Alistair had lost more than a beloved sister with Helena’s death. He had also lost his confidante, the one person he had trusted with that crucial part of himself. How terribly lonely he must have felt afterwards! And yet was it not preferable to know that someone fully accepted you as you were, and then lose that person, instead of never having the opportunity to share that with anyone, and never knowing whether you would still be loved no matter what? 

— “She must have been a wonderful person,” he finally said softly. “You were so lucky to have her!”

— “I really was,” Alistair approved. “And for a while it was incredibly hard for me to go on after she was gone. It took me months to start even functioning properly again.”

— “How did you get out of it?” Toby breathed, hoping he wasn’t out of line. He couldn’t even imagine what a mess he would be if he lost Freddie now. Even if his whole future wasn’t hanging in the balance. 

— “It is a rather long story, I’m not sure…”

— “I don’t want to be indiscreet or cause you pain…I’d understand if you didn’t want to talk about it, but…You know I really don’t mind long stories…”

Alistair chuckled. 

— “No, I daresay you don’t…and I suppose it _could_ interest you, since it actually contributed to shaping my identity as a homosexual man…”

— “Did it?” Toby said, confused. 

— “Indeed. You see, my father was getting seriously worried about me, and the solution he found to try and help me out had consequences that I could never have imagined.”

— “Why? What happened?” Toby asked, unable to repress his curiosity. 

— “My father is a diplomat, and a little less than a year after Helena’s death, he was assigned a mission in Berlin.”

— “Berlin?” Toby repeated, startled. 

— “It was at the end of 1932,” Alistair replied. “At that time, no one wanted another war. All efforts were put towards a peaceful and friendly relationship between the two countries. The Nazis were no more than a lurking shadow. Or so they thought.” 

— “Right,” Toby said, biting his lip. 

He knew how eager people like his own father had been to preserve peace at all costs, even after the Nazis had proved to be so much more than a shadow.

— “Father thought it would be a good idea to take me with him and Mother. I could take a year off from Eton, and take classes in Berlin to learn German, practice my piano with a teacher…he was convinced a change of scenery could do me good. And it did…though I’m sure it’s not quite what my father had in mind when he suggested I accompany them.” 

Toby was hooked. He already had a feeling where this story was going, and he was drinking Alistair’s words. Apart from Adil, he had never had the chance to hear about another homosexual man’s experience. 

— “At first I didn’t feel any better. I was just going with the flow. Then I started getting invested in my classes, because that’s how I work – I think you know what I mean – and a few months in, I was proficient enough in German to attend lectures about literature and civilization in addition to my language and piano lessons. 

That’s when I met Rainer. He was two years older than me, so we didn’t follow the same classes, but I often saw him around. He would always find ways to tease me and he kept looking at me with that infuriating smile…in the end I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to punch him on the mouth or kiss him silly. Luckily for the both of us, it was the second impulse that proved to be the strongest. The cheeky bastard knew exactly what he was doing, obviously.”

Alistair’s fond smile and the nostalgia in his eyes took all the sting out of his crude words. 

— “It was the first time I had ever acted on my feelings for a boy, and it was both bloody terrifying and completely exhilarating.”

Toby knew the feeling. It was exactly what he had felt with Adil at the beginning of their relationship. 

— “What did he look like?” He asked. 

— “Very Germanic,” Alistair replied with a smile. “Pale blond hair, ice-blue eyes, sharp features. He was very lean, though, not at all the stereotypical German bulk. And he liked to wear black kohl under his eyes, like Rudolph Valentino. Sometimes he wore lipstick as well. He would put some on to go out, like it was nothing. At first I was terrified. I thought it would get us arrested immediately. But he just laughed and said that nobody cared about that where we were going. And he was right.” 

Toby found the idea of a man wearing make-up very odd and rather unbecoming…until he started imagining Adil with black kohl under his eyes and changed his mind. As for lipstick, well, his only experience with that had been at the age of ten, when he and Freddie had sneaked up into Mother’s boudoir to “borrow” a stick and put on some after Emma had dared them to do so. They had not counted on Father catching them at it. 

The slap had knocked Toby clear off his feet. 

They had both gotten a taste of Father’s belt after that. Freddie had hobbled out of the room, trying very hard to pretend he wasn’t crying after his ten lashes. 

Toby had had to take fifteen. 

Though it had appeared grossly unfair to him at the time, he guessed in retrospect that his father’s anger might have had some ground for discrimination this time. First of all, he had been the one holding the incriminating stick when they had been caught. And what was probably even more damning, he had done a much better job at applying it correctly than Freddie, having watched Mother do it several times before. In fact, he had been about to try and right the mess his brother had made on his face when their father had unexpectedly showed up. 

Toby had refused to talk to Emma for two days after that, even though she had apologized profusely with genuine tears in her eyes for unwittingly getting them into trouble. Freddie had not reproached her anything. He was starting to realize he had a crush on her, and thus she could do no wrong. 

Toby imagined the look of horror on his father’s face if he had started casually walking around with make-up on at nineteen. The fatal heart attack would no doubt have claimed him right then and there. 

Even though this Rainer boy probably did not have the same kind of father as he did – or at least had not been bold or stupid enough to pull out this kind of stunt right under his sire’s nose – Toby couldn’t help feeling a certain admiration for him. 

— “What do you mean, he was right?” He asked, frowning. “Did he really never get into trouble for this?” 

— “Not at the time,” Alistair replied. “Things were vastly different from what they were in England. It was still the Weimar Republic. Queer people were marginally tolerated if not fully accepted in the eyes of the law. The government had actually come pretty close to making homosexuality legal back in 1929, before the economic crash. After that, I reckon they had more important fish to fry.” 

He let out a sarcastic little chuckle. 

— “Rainer had lodgings in the Schöneberg district. I soon found out that it was the neighbourhood where most people like us dwelled. Homosexuals, lesbians, cross-dressers, everyone gathered there in the cabarets and bars around Nollendorfplatz. The Eldorado, the Dorian Gray…everyone knew what was happening there but no one tried to stop it. Artists and socialites came from all over the country and abroad to enjoy the night life there. It felt completely surreal to me, like I was walking in a dream…queer people and regular people mixing up and partying like they had no care in the world. Men kissing each other and holding hands everywhere. They even had their own journal, Toby, an actual journal! ‘Deir Eigene’…The Self-Owning. The self-owning, Toby, can you imagine?”

Toby found that he very much _couldn’t_. It had indeed all the appearance of a feverish dream. He pictured seventeen-year-old Alistair walking around in this fantasy world with stars in his eyes and wondered whether he would have dared to do the same in his place.

— “But what about your parents?” He said, bemused. “Didn’t they find out and try to stop you?” 

— “Quite shockingly, they never did. I would pretend that we were going with some other friends to some other place, and I spent my evenings with Rainer. My parents never knew or cared. Father was too caught up in his work, Mother was still struggling with her grief and trying to adjust to the local life, and they had all those official dinners to attend…at least If they ever guessed anything they never mentioned it to me. Maybe they were just relieved that I seemed to be feeling better and didn’t question the reasons why. And in retrospect, those were some of the best months of my life, even though I was still grieving too.” 

— “Were you and Rainer…in love?” Toby dared to ask. 

— “I was very smitten and utterly fascinated, but no, I don’t think I was in love. He wasn’t either, and he never tried to make me believe otherwise. He had decided to take me under his wing like a lost kitten and show me the ropes, and I shall be forever grateful to him for that. He was my first lover, but most of all, he became a very dear friend. He helped me a lot as I was trying to come to terms with what I was.”

That certainly shed a new light on Alistair’s feelings towards Germany. For him, the country wasn’t solely the enemy; it was a place where he had undertaken a thrilling journey of self-discovery, made friends, been happy. Those precious memories couldn’t be wiped out just because war had been declared again. 

— “Everything changed when Hitler came to power,” Alistair went on. “They closed the Eldorado down in 1933, and all the other bars too. All of a sudden the party was over and the dream was gone. My father was called back to England and I had to leave Rainer behind. I begged him to come with me, but he didn’t want to leave his country. He couldn’t believe things were actually as bad as they looked, and he knew he could never live a proper life in England. At least not compared to what he had experienced in Berlin.”

Toby wondered what it could feel like to live such a free life, to be able to fully be who you were in public, at least within this little world of bars and cabarets and clubs, and proudly show the outside world that you existed without fear of being thrown behind bars. And what it could feel like to suddenly lose it all and being relegated to the shadow, lest you did not only lose your freedom but potentially your life.

— “What happened to him?” He couldn’t help asking. “Did you manage to stay in contact after that?” 

— “Oh yes,” Alistair answered softly. “We used to write to each other regularly, with code names and words, of course, before…well…” His voice broke. “He was arrested by the Gestapo in Berlin, back in 1936. He had stopped answering my letters and I knew something must have gone wrong, but it took some time before I learnt exactly _how wrong_. A common acquaintance had managed to flee to the US and wrote to me…There is all appearance that he has been sent to a work camp…or worse…”

— “Alistair, that’s terrible…I’m so sorry!” Toby reacted, appalled. 

A shiver of horror ran down his spine. The most terrifying rumours were starting to circulate about what the Nazis did to their opponents, especially to the people they deemed ‘degenerate’. Jews, Slavs, Gipsies, invalid and mentally deficient people…and homosexuals. Toby didn’t want to believe even half of these rumours, but if they turned out to be true…

— “Did he…did he get arrested because he was like us?” He asked in a low voice. 

— “I suppose so,” Alistair answered gravely. “Rainer was never one to hide his true nature. Not even to save his life.” 

Toby couldn’t even comprehend that kind of reckless courage. He knew the longing for a life out in the open, the craving for recognition and the frustration at having to hide what mattered most to him. But he had accepted all that as part of the course. Something he wished with all his heart would one day change, something he sometimes dared to dream would happen sooner than later, but that he knew from experience he could not go against for now. The consequences were too dire. But then again, his life wasn’t the only one at stake. 

Alistair resumed talking after a pause, staring ahead with a haunted look:

— “Sometimes, I can’t help stupidly hoping that maybe he’s managed to escape…that he is safe somewhere…but I’m not sure whether it makes things better or worse in the long run.”

Toby wondered how he would feel in this situation. If Freddie or Emma, or God forbid, if Adil were unaccounted for and he didn’t know for sure if they were alive or dead, safe or suffering…and he had to live with this uncertainty for years…no, he couldn’t even think about it. 

— “My God, Alistair, I’m so sorry…”

Toby felt like a stupid parrot, repeating shallow, impersonal words, but what else could he say? What consolation could he possibly offer? 

He felt the urge to touch Alistair, put a hand on his shoulder, maybe, show him that he cared. But that could be overstepping. He didn’t dare. 

The other man averted his eyes and took off his glasses. Toby guessed he was fighting back tears. He wished he could tell him he could cry in front of him if he needed to, that Toby wouldn’t think any less of him if he did; but he didn’t want to embarrass him any further. 

— “Anyway,” Alistair started again, voice slightly hoarse, but apparently determined not to let his emotion get in the way. “The following couple of years were a bit of a dry spell, so to speak. I knew so much more than I had before, but I had not yet learned how to find like-minded people here in England. I came back to my studies, but I also tried to listen and observe as much as I could, and listen to Rainer’s advice on what to look for. I knew there had to be hidden places in London where men like me could gather. I started to go to…not-so-well-famed neighbourhoods, just to collect information, and I finally found what I had hoped I would. It was nice enough to be able to dwell among other queer men, of course, but I didn’t meet anyone who particularly struck my fancy in a more-than-physical way. And I learned through trial and error that trysts with no emotional strings attached were not something I could enjoy in the long run.”

Toby thought he could understand that. He had never experienced loveless sex, but knowing what actually making love felt like, he thought there was bound to be something missing – an emptiness, a dull ache that no pleasure could erase. It had come close to it the last times with Adil, when, as he realized now, he had felt like his lover was not fully _there_ , or rather, that he wasn’t there for the sake of being there. His determination to get Toby off as soon as they were safely enclosed in the same room felt like a means to an end, not like an entirely spontaneous urge. After their argument, Toby had understood the reasons for it. And it killed him that Adil could ever think that the only thing left between them, the only thing he had to offer, was sex. 

— “Go on,” he stammered, refusing to let his mind wander in this direction. 

— “Then I was fortunate enough to meet Julian at Oxford…we became friends almost immediately, and we didn’t stop being so after we became lovers. That’s all we’ve ever been, in fact. Very good friends who also could enjoy each other’s company in a different way.” 

— “Julian?” Toby repeated, eyes wide. “Julian Ashford?” 

Alistair looked at him in surprise.

— “Why yes,” he said. “Hadn’t you guessed?” 

— “I…I had noticed that you two seemed…close, but…he is married! And he and Edna, they seem to be so happy and in love!”

— “Oh, but they are!” Alistair replied. “They do love each other deeply, I can assure you of that. This is not what you think. Julian is attracted to both genders.” 

Toby was wordless once more. 

_Both genders?_

— “Mind that I’m telling you all this because they gave me permission to do so if I ever felt the time was right…and well, I suppose now is the right time indeed, even though I’m sure they had hoped for a different outcome between you and me.”

— “They…they knew about me?”

— “No more than I did for sure. But I confided in them and told them about my feelings…I hope that you can forgive me.”

Toby tried to push back his instinctive sense of danger and exposure. Alistair and his friends confided in each other when it came to their true nature; they would never rat Toby out to anyone they couldn’t trust for sure. Knowing that they had been talking about him in this way was embarrassing, but he knew they could hardly judge him for what he was. And he couldn’t really blame Alistair for feeling the need to vent. He elected to change the subject.

— “So Edna….she knows about her husband’s…proclivities?” 

— “She knows that he also likes men, yes,” Alistair answered. “And she understands it perfectly, seeing as it is the same for her.” 

— “W…what?” Toby stammered. “You mean that she is…”

— “Also attracted to both genders, yes. They have been very open with each other on this question from the start. Edna knows about every aspect of my past relationship with her husband. And he knows about her past relationship with Millie…do you remember her from that gathering we went to? Millicent Harding?”

— “Is she attracted to both men and women too?” Toby asked, feeling his cheeks burning up as he spoke. 

— “Only women, as far as I know.” 

— “But I thought lesbians were…”

— “More masculine-looking? Some are. But not all of them. No more than all homosexuals are very feminine-looking.” 

Toby felt stupid for assuming otherwise.

— “And her brother? He was there too! Does he know about her?”

— “Yes, he does. Fortunately for her, James happens to be one of those rare progressive minds who think who people love and have intimate relationships with shouldn’t be ruled by law, as long as it is fully consensual.” 

Toby’s mind was reeling. James Harding had a lesbian sister and knew the truth about her. He knew the truth and he didn’t mind, no more than Alistair’s sister had minded that her brother was a homosexual! It sounded too good to be true! If only it could be the same one day between him and Freddie…and with Emma too! She definitely had what could be called a ‘progressive mind’, and Freddie…well, Freddie was getting there, wasn’t he? Maybe Toby should have trusted him after all…

_Don’t get ahead of yourself. You know where it leads._

— “What about…Donald and George? They…they are…intimate, aren’t they?” He asked to distract himself from the foolish hope rising in his chest. 

Alistair sighed. 

— “Their situation is much more complicated. As you must have guessed, George is not at all of the same…social standing as Donald. And their respective tempers and interests are not necessarily very well suited. But yes…they have been seeing each other on and off for about two years now.” 

Two years. Just like him and Adil. Two men with very different social backgrounds, trying to stick together against all odds. It should have been easy to relate to them. And yet something told Toby that the relationship between Donald and George was very far from the love he shared with Adil. He had seen both men, he had watched them interact, and he had also seen how wary Donald’s friends seemed to be of George. It was easy to imagine that both men got their own benefits out of the relationship, but he wasn’t sure those benefits were of the kind that made for a reciprocally healthy and loving partnership. He felt sorry for them at the thought; and he felt even more grateful that life had given him someone like Adil to cherish and be cherished by, however flawed their own relationship could be. 

Everything that had seemed strange to him at that gathering now made so much more sense. And Toby couldn’t believe he had spent several hours in a group of people who were almost all like him one way or another, and his mind had not been ready to acknowledge it. 

—“I gather you don’t know much about all these things?” Alistair asked tactfully.

— “No, I don’t,” Toby confessed, blushing. “I’m sort of a…late bloomer in this area. I’ve always felt that I was…different. But I couldn’t put a name on what I felt or what I was until I started getting intimate with Adil. He made me feel like I was finally making sense, like I could finally belong. He was…He was my first everything…”

He stopped, realizing how hard to hear his words must be for Alistair. He should have known better than to venture on this terrain. 

— “And you’ve never…been tempted? Never wanted to experience these things with someone else?” The man asked in a low voice, avoiding Toby’s eyes. 

— “No,” Toby replied without a second thought. “Never. Not once.” 

He was sincere. He had to make Alistair understand. He wasn’t sticking up with Adil because he didn’t know better. He didn’t need anyone else. He didn’t want anyone else. 

Alistair sighed.

— “I apologize. That was unseemly.” 

— “It’s alright,” Toby said. “I’ve asked you a lot of personal questions. It’s only fair that you get your turn…”

— “As hard as it is for me to say, I have to admit that I’m impressed…it’s pretty rare for men like us to form such steady attachments from the start…At least that’s the impression I got from talking with the other homosexuals I’ve met so far…”

— “I couldn’t say… I know Adil had…experiences in the past. But he is on the same page as me. We want to be faithful to each other.”

He wasn’t about to tell Alistair that Adil had actually given him permission to sleep with him if he wanted to. In fact, he wished he could forget he had ever made that offer. 

— “And I understand that. I dare say I’m not much of a sharer in love either. At least I wouldn’t be, if my feelings were requited. Once you’ve found the right man, why would you want anyone else?” 

There was longing in Alistair’s voice, and Toby was suddenly painfully aware that he had never mentioned being in love with any of his previous lovers. Not Rainer, not Julian. Not any of the nameless men he had met in the shadows. 

But he said that he had fallen in love with him. With him, Toby Hamilton. It made no sense. It was absurd! What were the odds that not one, but two bright, kind, funny, gorgeous men would fall in love with him? What were the odds that he’d meet them both in the same lifetime?

For one fleeting moment, Toby allowed himself to think about the ‘what ifs’ too. 

It all passed in front of his eyes: the beautiful, cosy flat full of books, the cats, the piano, the handsome blue-eyed man playing for him, both of them working at their desk, each absorbed in their own sphere of intellect, barely remembering to eat but gladly sharing tea and biscuits or more substantial meals whenever the thought did occur; long conversations about history, linguistics and literature, huddled by the stove in the evening; and making love with little risk of being heard, actually sharing a bed all night and waking up next to each other in the morning…it was a beautiful picture, a beautiful life; one he could easily have seen himself living, in another world. A world where he would not have fallen in love with Adil Joshi. The image of the tall blue-eyed man dissolved, replaced by that of a shorter, amber-skinned one with soft dark eyes. And Toby knew he would not rest until both visions could actually coexist. A flat just as homey as this one, if more modest, and that would reflect the personality of its two inhabitants. There would probably be no piano, unless Toby actually learned to play and they had room for it, but it didn’t matter either way. The stove, the cats ‒ or maybe a dog if Adil preferred it ‒ the books, the tea and biscuits, the conversations, even if they were about different things, all of this he could still have; and the love-making, sharing a bed all night, waking up in each other’s arms, he could still have that too. With the right man. He knew he would do everything in his power to have that with Adil one day. 

— “I’m sorry I cannot give you what you want,” he said. 

— “Don’t be sorry for something that’s not under your control,” Alistair answered simply. “Don’t apologize for being happy, even it is with someone else.” 

Truth be told, Toby _wasn’t_ happy with Adil at the moment. But he knew he _could_ be happy with him again. And he also knew above all that he could never be that happy with someone other than Adil. He had tasted that happiness before, and he knew nothing could compare. Everything else would be a sham, as perfect as it could look on the surface. 

— “For my sake, I feel that it would be better if I didn’t ask you anything more,” Alistair resumed talking after a pause. “But you can keep asking me questions, if there is anything else you’d wish to know.” 

Toby bit his lip nervously. He could see their exchange was taking a toll on Alistair’s emotions, probably more than the man had presumed it would when he had asked him to stay. He knew he should take his leave soon and put an end to this unnecessary torment. But he had one last thing to ask on the tip of his tongue, something that had been nagging him for some time now. Finally curiosity won the battle against decency. 

— “I’m sorry,” he said, “but I have one more question…that time when I met your friends…George said something…something that seemed to put everybody ill-at-ease and that even made you want to leave immediately…but you didn’t want to tell me what he meant. I asked Adil too…he said he didn’t know, but now I think he did and just wanted to spare me. Could…could you please tell me now? I promise I will not get angry, even if it was very rude…I just…I want to know what those words meant.”

Alistair’s face had the same deeply embarrassed expression he had sported on that very day after the gathering, and for a moment Toby was convinced he was going to say no. But he took a deep breath and started speaking hesitantly: 

— “There is a…sort of cant that queer men of working-class backgrounds use to communicate and talk about their inclinations in public without being reported to the police.” 

Toby’s eyes widened as a thrill of excitement ran through him. A secret coded language! That’s what he had hoped for…He fought back a twinge of hurt and disappointment at the thought that Adil had probably known about it all along and never told him. He knew his lover didn’t like talking about this particular aspect of his past. He felt uncomfortable about it, even though Toby thought he had no reason to. In Adil’s place, he would probably have tried his luck with unknown men too, just for a bit of human warmth, however furtive. Just to try and keep the loneliness at bay for a little while. But he also knew he would have reacted exactly like Adil and tried to leave it all behind him after finding his true love. Turn over a new leaf and pretend it had never happened. It was irrational, this idea that one’s past sexual experiences left a taint, as though one had to be pure and untouched to be worthy of love. That was the kind of prejudice women had to face, and Toby suddenly took the full measure of how cruelly unfair that was. 

— “And this language…” he said. “It was what George used?”

Alistair nodded. 

— “It is called Polari. What you have to know is that…it is a very crude language, meant to express very straightforward ideas…I am by no means proficient in it, unlike George, but I know enough to understand what he meant. And those words…let’s just say that they were sexual innuendos, aimed at mocking me and the fact that I was…physically attracted to you. Which I can assure you does not even begin to cover the extent of my feelings for you, though I won’t lie and say that it’s not part of it, because I think I felt drawn to you in that way from the very moment I saw you for the first time…”

— “But why?” Toby blurted out, unable to stop himself. “I mean, you can have men who look like Julian, why would you even look twice at me?”

Alistair stared at him in bewilderment.

— “God, you _really_ have no idea how attractive you are, do you?” He said. 

Toby looked down in embarrassment. 

He knew that Adil found him attractive, desirable, _beautiful_ even; his lover kept telling him so, and proving it to him with the passion he mustered when they were making love. But Adil was his own self-standing miracle and normal rules didn’t seem to apply to him. 

— “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m not fishing for compliments, I swear. It’s just that… people always tend to look more at…well, my brother. Ever since we were children…even then, he was the perfect, pretty little lordling and I was the ugly freckled toad in a sailor suit next to him.” 

Alistair let out a little chuckle and shook his head. 

— “Oh, your brother is nice enough to look at, no doubt,” he said. “But his face doesn’t catch your attention. It does not make you want to look at it again and memorize every little detail…”

Alistair interrupted himself. His voice and the look in his eyes had grown more passionate as he was speaking, and Toby felt his cheeks warm up. 

— “I’m sorry,” Alistair murmured. “You asked.” 

— “No, it’s…it’s fine,” Toby stammered, for lack of a better thing to say. 

— “I can see the freckles alright,” Alistair went on softly. “But no ugly toad, I can assure you. Unfortunately for me, someone else has already kissed it into a beautiful prince.” 

Following a sudden impulse, Toby stood up on his toes and leaned in to kiss Alistair. It was a mere peck on the lips, but soft and affectionate. Toby allowed Alistair to make it linger a little longer and turn a little more sensual than he had planned, and if he had had any doubts, this would have been enough to dismiss them completely. Even the chastest of Adil’s kisses made Toby’s entire body tingle with bliss. This kiss, while by no means unpleasant, didn’t feel right to him. 

Alistair had clearly guessed it, and he looked at Toby with a sad smile when they broke apart. 

— “He is a very lucky man, Mr Joshi,” he said without any trace of bitterness or contempt. 

— “Believe me, I am the lucky one here,” Toby answered simply. 

— “Then I’m happy for you, Toby. Truly.” 

— “I wish you to be happy too. Any man would be lucky to have _you_. I really hope you’ll find someone who’ll love you like you deserve!”

— “I certainly hope so to,” Alistair replied softly. “But whoever he is, he’s going to have one hell of a hard time winning me over.” 

— “It will be worth it,” Toby replied, looking him right in the eyes.

There was a pause.

— “I should really go now,” Toby breathed. 

— “Yes,” Alistair conceded, biting his lip. “I suppose it would be more reasonable, seeing as I’ve already broken my promise not to say anything improper.” 

— “And that I have just made you break your promise not to do anything improper either,” Toby completed, blushing. 

— “Can’t say I really regret that, though,” Alistair replied. 

— “Neither do I,” Toby assured sincerely. 

He knew he _ought_ to have regretted it and feel guilty towards Adil; but what he felt instead was an appeasing sense of closure. 

He went to the guest room to collect his things. He would not get to sleep there after all; though he realized that maybe Alistair had hoped they would share his bed tonight instead. The thought made him sad more than uncomfortable. 

— “Goodbye, dear Toby,” Alistair said as they were standing at the front door. He took one of his hands in his and raised it to his lips to kiss it. 

— “Are you…are you going to be alright on your own?” Toby couldn’t help asking. 

— “I’m not really on my own,” Alistair answered, gesturing towards the cats who were now both occupying opposite corners of the sofa. “I’m probably going to wallow in self-pity for a while and read lots of sad love poems, but I’ll get through this. I’ll call Julian to arrange a meeting as soon as I’ll get back to London, so that I have a shoulder to cry on. You needn’t worry about me.”

He was keeping his tone light and jocular, but Toby could read between the lines. He felt his heart twist with guilt. He knew he couldn’t do anything to make things easier, and he hated it. Alistair didn’t deserve the suffering. 

— “Goodbye, then,” he finally said, biting his tongue before he could utter any more useless apologies. “And Alistair…please remember that I’m still your friend, no matter what.” 

Alistair smiled, soft and sad. 

— “So am I, Toby,” he replied. “Have a safe journey back.” 

— “Thank you,” Toby murmured. “For everything.” 

Steeling his resolve, he turned around, opened the door and walked out of the flat without looking back at the other man. 

Yes indeed; what was it with golden-hearted, selfless, incredible men falling in love with him? And why did he have to keep hurting them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think of Alistair and Toby's confrontation? I hope you're not disappointed ! 
> 
> I had part of the dialogues for this chapter written from the beginning, when I started working on this story, and I couldn't wait to actually post it. 
> 
> Also I have way too much backstory for Alistair and his friends...sorry if you didn't care about any of it, but Adil and Adoby will be back in full force next chapter, I promise.

**Author's Note:**

> I know this first chapter is very short but I really wanted to start posting on this story to see if it was worth it and motivate me to write faster! Hopefully it won't take too long to complete the other chapters...
> 
> Please comment and tell me what you think, good or bad ! <3


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